


Roots

by ClaraAeri



Category: The Legend of Zelda: Breath of the Wild
Genre: Angst, Blood and Violence, Childhood Memories, F/M, Family, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Friendship, Mild Language, Romance, Slow Burn, This somehow became a slow burn, let's admit this is a little angsty sometimes, mild violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-01
Updated: 2021-02-22
Packaged: 2021-03-05 04:53:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 27
Words: 235,529
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25008772
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ClaraAeri/pseuds/ClaraAeri
Summary: A work exploring the events that took place before the calamity- detailing Link's chaotic ascendance into the royal guard, his first meetings with each of the champions, Zelda, and the people who raised him.[Main story is finished! Epilogue on the way]"Link tossed the sword down. It stayed upright, embedded into the dirt and mud. He wanted to tell her just how desperately he’d wanted to reject it and put it back into its pedestal. The way he ran and lied, and was still lying. King Rhoam was the one who insisted the truth be buried, but Link didn’t utter a word of protest. He may have come clean, but he had no intention of coming clean to all of Hyrule.He felt he didn’t owe Hyrule anything.But the question remained, just how much did he owe Zelda?"
Relationships: Link/Zelda (Legend of Zelda), Zelink - Relationship
Comments: 582
Kudos: 820
Collections: Roots and Branches





	1. The Apple Tree

**Author's Note:**

> This is the result of me having more head cannons than I know what to do with. Enjoy!

It wasn’t Zelda who Link remembered first. The princess, despite being such a profound influence in his life, was a distant and enigmatic figure who was about as tangible as a stream of water pouring over his fingertips. She was an ever present, powerful current in his mind. But the memory of her was never something he could snatch away, or drink from when he pleased.

No, it wasn’t the most vivid or traumatic events that came to him first. 

Mipha, Zelda, the king, and all the other Champions were the same in how they came and went with rain, with the ocean tides, and with tumbling fog. It was both a relief and a frustration. While he may not be ready for the emotional turmoil of his past, time wasn’t exactly on his side.

Not anymore, at least.

The easiest things for him to recall turned out to be fuzzy, distorted memories of his childhood. Walking down a beaten path, spying a crumbling watchtower, or holding a stick in his hand were all shockingly easy triggers to remind him of his father’s wry laugh.

The man wasn’t what he’d expected. 

The first memory of his father came to him when he fought Bokoblins and machinery in the ruins of a farm not too far from the capital of Hyrule. It appeared so suddenly that Link’s senses had vanished completely and he stood dumbly in front of a live guardian- lost in the rush of information. It took a laser and a Bokoblin smacking him with a pot lid to snap him out of it. 

At the end of all his battling, Link collapsed in the middle of the ranch, arms spread wide as he reflected on the memory of his younger self beating what looked like a boy twice his age with a stick.

That part wasn’t all that surprising. Link had enough brute strength that he figured he must’ve been born with a decent amount of it. What was shocking was seeing his father on the other side of the fence, cackling madly as he collected rupees from a very angry Hylian knight.

He didn’t know how it started, but his father had made a bet against his own captain that Link could easily humiliate the man’s eldest son if given a hunk of wood and a mere ten seconds. His father walked away one hundred rupees richer that day, and Link was rewarded with a cut of prime steak.

Ever since he woke up from his hundred year coma, he’d been told stories of how noble and chivalrous the knights of old Hyrule were. And yet, here he lay, recalling _that_. It was definitely both a contradiction and the wrong way to feel about it, but memories of his father were the only memories Link enjoyed recalling at all.

He told Impa this as she sipped from a cup of tea, a thoughtful but curious look wrinkling her face even more than usual.

“That is why you insist upon cutting through the capital during your travels, I take it? As dangerous as it is?”

A nod.

It was an hour later, when he delivered tools to help Paya tend to the Sheikah graves, that she had pointed to the South, asking, “You’ve traveled to the capital, right? Do you know what that is? I’ve always wanted to know.”

Link joined her near the cliff’s edge, squinting. Across the valley, far in the distance, the silhouette of Hyrule’s colosseum could be seen in all the clear weather. 

Without missing a heartbeat, he blurted, “That's the colosseum. It’s been standing for over three thousand years, and started out as an exclusive ring for prisoners to fight against monsters. Sometimes even knights or the kings of Hyrule would prove their worth by fighting in the ring- but around four hundred years ago, civilians were allowed to enter and bet on fighters.”

It left her staring at him, dumbfounded. It was probably the most he had ever said in one breath.

“...I remember more about that place than anywhere else in Hyrule,” he clarified.

“Y-You spent time there?”

“Some of my childhood, probably.”

“Your... _childhood?_ ”

“I think my father caught on that I was a pretty good fighter when I was still young. He liked gambling, too.”

“...Children were allowed to fight to the death? To be gambled on?” she was aghast. “The worst thing we do now is have them fight each other with wooden swords until they learn proper defense!”

Link shrugged. “I don’t remember any other kids being in the ring. For some reason, I was the only one.”

“That’s… _odd._ ”

“Yeah,” he nodded. “Odd.”

Paya looked away, reluctant to comment any further on the subject. She dusted away the dirt on her clothes as she returned to her work, remarking, “I’m very sorry you had a terrible father.”

“Did I?” He mused. 

It was probably true. While Link recalled always having somewhere warm to sleep, a full plate of food, and his father’s jocular approval, he was definitely allowed far, far too much freedom for a child.

(Link often disappeared for days on end when he was still small and wide-eyed: wandering through forests, climbing steep hills, or digging for treasure beneath riverbeds. His father never searched for him on those days. If they didn’t stumble across each other during one of his father’s patrols, Link would eventually return home to snatch away whatever dinner his old man had cooked before slipping away the next morning- the sound of his father’s snoring growing quiet with the click of a locking door.)

“ _You’re a feral brat,_ ” he would say. “ _It’s a blessing. If you were normal, I’d be worried sick._ ”

When Link showed interest in swordplay, his father obliged and tossed him a claymore to swing around at the age of four. By the time he was six, he was a colosseum fighter, eight a squire, and twelve: the youngest knight in Hyrule.

By thirteen, the Master Sword was in his hand.

By sixteen, he was an imperial guardsman and Champion.

By eighteen, he was asleep. 

He didn’t know what became of his father. Most likely, the man died alongside King Rhoam. For all his faults, he passed on his brazen and courageous nature onto his son; and it’s how Link was sure that he died fighting- if not hurling some sort of profanity at a Guardian. 

Remembering the heat of slate and pulsing red lights, it occurred to him the apple really didn’t fall far from the tree.


	2. The Studious and the Mighty: Part One

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Link is a Cryptid. I cannot be convinced otherwise.

“Good things come in three!”

A man named Akrah declared that on a cloudy day just outside Serenne Stable after dumping a gold rupee into Link’s hand. He didn’t get a chance to ask Akrah what he meant by that before he started arguing with his two brothers again.

Bones this, bones that, they yelled, and Link wandered off. But those words stuck in his head for a whole week. He never heard the phrase before. Was it something people said about money? Siblings? Events?

Once, Link ate three mushrooms. The third was poisonous and left him nauseous for a day. Another time, he spent two days exploring the desert only to get trapped in a sandstorm the next.

Good things never came in three for him. Why would anyone say that? It baffled him.

Lightning struck next to him twice before hitting him the third time, too. Even with Zelda it was the same. As far as he could remember, he’d spoken to her twice before becoming a Champion. And from that point on it was a disaster.

Well, realistically, he’d seen her pretty often in the beginning but rarely had the chance to interact with her.

The first time he ever saw Zelda it was from a distance in Castle Town Square while he sat on his father’s shoulders. He couldn’t have been older than five, looking out over a sea of bobbing heads and waving hands. A shower of flower petals drifted through the crowd in celebration: a flurry of pink, blue, yellow, and white in all the strong winds. When several caught in his hair, Link snatched one up. His thumb grazed over the velvety pink surface in contemplation before he stuck it in his mouth.

“Boy, don’t you-! Oh, _whatever._ ” Between his father's defeated protests, Link took a moment to evaluate the taste. It was like dirt, and when he spat it out, the man snapped, “What did you think it’d taste like, _huh?"_

“A berry,” Link mumbled.

“...Well... it’s _not._ "

Trumpets blared: a flourish of music. Link glanced up to see the castle gates swinging open. Applause broke out as the royal family moved into view- several Zora in tow. He spied the princess hiding away in her mother’s shadow; she clutched the hem of her blue dress, nervous and shaken by the expanse of cheering people before her.

(Whatever speech King Rhoam made or what it was about, he couldn’t recall. He'd been too distracted by the glittering of bracelets as Hylians and Zora all shook hands. Pleasantries were exchanged. Mipha, just as small as Zelda, enveloped her a crushing hug. She must have whispered something reassuring, because the the princess stood a little taller after that- even daring to take one tiny step away from the queen.)

Hyrule’s queen raised a thin blade towards the sky as a Zora attendant lifted their own spear, crossing it with her rapier in something like a toast. 

The woman had a broad smile, a toothy grin that reached her eyes. Weapons lowered, and she twirled the rapier in her palm before sheathing it- stepping back to bow at the Zora princess in a show of respect. Looking back, Zelda's mother certainly had a flare for the dramatic; and it had quite the effect on her daughter: the girl staring up open-mouthed and utterly captivated by the spectacle of it all.

Zelda's face was suddenly cut out of view by a wall of royal guardsmen ushering the family out of sight. Gates slammed shut after them and, like a broken spell, the crowd dispersed into the marketplace as if nothing happened. His father just as quickly plopped him to his feet and returned to guard duty: leaving him to romp around Castle Town or harass local vendors as he pleased.

It was the last time Hyrule’s citizens saw their queen on her feet. By the next week she was in a casket, draped in silks and swift violets. The memorial was the last time her daughter would appear in public for another seven years as well, hidden away by her father for reasons unknown.

Whatever ended the queen’s life, no one was told. Though strangely, Link’s father kept a closer eye on him after that. 

“Don’t spend the night in the woods anymore,” he instructed. “If you see anyone in red, find a guard immediately.”

“I don’t like red. Mipha is ok, though,” Link rambled, chin resting on their dinner table. His feet were kicking as he watched his father stir a pot of soup, but his toes weren’t even close to grazing the wood floor. “Blue’s nice.”

His father squinted at him for a moment, clearly wondering if he’d paid any attention to the actual warning- whatever it was. 

“Right. Very good,” was the response he settled on, and tossed a bowl onto the table.

  


* * *

  


Now, the first time Zelda spoke to Link was a day he remembered far more clearly. 

The weather was warm that afternoon, coupled by strong winds that swept away the colosseum's bed of sand. Instead of contestants in the ring, there was a troupe marching in circles. Their instruments were a roar- the sound amplified by the building’s hollowed structure, and Link could almost feel the stone walls shake. It reverberated: buzzing away in his chest. Anticipation was there, too, maybe.

He scanned the crowd above. Most were nobility; a gaggle of obnoxiously bright colors and feathered hats. Beneath them was a wall of metal and red plumes. The knights of Hyrule stood watch: lined up in perfect order like a flock of geese. Most seemed to be lacking the excitement of the nobility chattering away. If he learned anything from his father, it was likely they already knew whose apprentices would earn the right to enroll in the test for knighthood.

Against all odds, Link found himself in the ring’s tunneled entrance, wedged somewhere in the middle of all the squires set to compete in that day’s match. Over fifty young men stared down at him, scratching their heads. They were confused. With all of them being at least a decade older, he was definitely the odd one out.

“Whose kid is that?” one of them asked after a long silence.

“I’ve seen him. He’s a page,” a man shrugging on gauntlets obliged.

“ _What?_ There’s no way he’s fighting, right?”

Link stood mute, hands on his hips, and nodded.

“...Hylia’s sake, someone get this kid’s parents.”

Before they could move, he brandished a medal to them. A winged sword. The mark of the royal guard, and an express ticket into the ring.

There was cursing, followed by maniacal laughter from somewhere in the group.

“I bet he stole that!”

A man of Lurelin descent poked his head above the crowd and shouted, “Who’s the lucky bastard who gets to fight the nine-year-old?”

“I’m twelve,” Link clarified. 

Laughter erupted. There was more yelling, voices overlapping.

It was understandable what with most squires not even becoming knights until their mid-twenties. The youngest in the last century was nineteen. Thus, to see a child page there- well, the only explanation was that the royal guardsmen were completely inebriated when they made that decision. In reality, it was probably the fact that they had to admit a twelve-year-old was skilled enough to win that drove them to start drinking.

(Only two days ago, the captain of the royal guard smacked him on the head with that same red and obsidian trinket, and when Link craned his neck to look up at him, the old man’s face was pulled into a deep scowl. Somehow, it was good natured. 

“We voted,” he grumbled. “You get one chance. Don’t lose, brat, I've got a goat bet on you.”

After he sauntered off, Link sprinted directly home to show his father the medal. He told him what happened, to which the man snarked: “He bet a goat on you? _Coward_ , I bet my _horse._ ”)

He grinned devilishly. Eventually, the group’s attention shifted from him- none bothering to take him seriously- but the one with gauntlets sat unusually quiet. He looked a little wary, observing their resident twelve-year-old as he sharpened a claymore that was taller than himself. When they made eye contact, the young man blanched and tore his eyes away. Link's own narrowed; that squire’s freckled face was familiar.

They crossed paths once: in the forest at night. A Hinox had moved into Link’s usual stomping grounds when he was eight; and, not being one to tolerate trespassers, he decided to fling a bucket at its face. A skirmish quickly broke out when it startled awake- though not for long. Within a matter of ten seconds, he'd clamored up the monster with ease, stolen a spear from its necklace, and thrust it in its eye. Purple mist had billowed out: leaving him coughing until a powerful wind carried away the plumes. Torchlight. Link's head snapped toward it. As it turned out, there’d been a witness.

A red-haired teenager stood there, torch in in hand and his mouth agape. That boy's mouth closed and opened again as he tried to weather out some kind of question or greeting; but it was cut short by the clatter of metal. In a flash, Link had scooped up the myriad of weapons left behind, stuffed some cooked fish into his mouth, and scurried off into the woods without so much as a wave. He was never one for conversation, after all.

Not long after that, he accompanied his father to Hyrule’s Exchange to be enlisted as a page for the local guard. On the way back their wagon passed another heading in the opposite direction. Chatter filtered from the bed of that carriage: laughter. A little curious, he glanced over at them.

It was a group arriving for the evening patrols, weapons rattling alongside the armored boys with every bump in the road. One of the passengers was staring at him, too; and as fate would have it, it was the same teenager from that night.

The boy frantically smacked another squire, pointing at him, “That’s the kid! I told you!”

“Are you kidding me?” his friend turned, exasperated. “He’s the size of my mom’s poodle. There’s no chance.”

Link took a large bite out of a mushroom just as his own wagon rounded a corner, the bickering teenagers disappearing from sight.

A second later, his father called out to him from the front seat, “What’d he see you do?”

“Hinox,” Link gave a one word reply between mouthfuls.

He slapped his leg and cackled at that.

Normally, there was a ranking system for colosseum fighters. They would advance through individual matches, and those who won the most would eventually face off in the finale. In the case of monsters it was no different. The difficulty would gradually increase- usually until they ran out of Bokoblins or Lizalfos to throw into the ring, or, occasionally, battles against Stalfos would be held at night. There were plenty of gimmicks to keep the crowds entertained, in short.

However, that day was simpler.

It was an annual tourney- held specifically to allow squires to graduate a couple years early and earn a bit of glory for their houses along the way. In the spirit of real battles, they would all be thrown into the ring at once.

It certainly wasn’t to the death, but the last three standing would be chosen to face off against a monster of the imperial guard’s choosing several weeks later- during the summer solstice. If they won, they were sure to be knighted the next day. As such, the path to an early knighthood was clear; but it was one littered with broken bones and hideous bruises. And, that path in particular would only become more treacherous as time went on. In the years leading up to the Calamity, the right of passage would only grow stricter and stricter with every surge of the king's paranoia until only the most elite soldiers would be enlisted into the army. Link never doubted he would pass any test thrown at him; but he didn't envy those who would later be forced to shed the blood of three Lynels all to earn the king's meager consideration.

Even when he participated in the tourney whilst Hyrule was under no impending threat, King Rhoam was there: looming over his future guards like a vulture from atop his balcony. It wasn’t too high, yet that man still appeared impossibly tall. Link's eyes wandered along the railing he clung to and down the banners hanging off the side. Blue. Shimmering golds. Tips hovered only several feet above the dirt. Those colors did well to make Rhoam stand out- acting as a stark contrast from the vivid red of his fur coat. Though, the line of royal guardsmen at his heels were better disguised as they stood blanketed in shadow and dark fabrics. Obsidian amor. Motionless. Wordless. Link’s own father was easier to catch sight of: stationed pointedly at the king’s left. Their eyes met. A wink from his father.

A scroll unfurled before a spindly man with a flawless beard began to read from the long parchment, his voice carrying over the large space with ease. Formal introductions included the squires’ accomplishments, their family names, and where they hailed from.

However, the names and titles weren’t needed to identify the young men’s origins; each of them wore the emblem of their endorsers at their shoulders. Back in the tunnel, Link recognized several medals from dukes of the Tabantha, Great Forest, and Akkala regions.

(Akkala’s emblem was a bird with terrible claws: its beak open and its tongue sticking out like a crimson ribbon. He would curl his lip at it. Link wasn't the type to shy away from monsters or wild animals, but he vastly preferred the soft eyed horse of Central Hyrule’s medals.)

Over half of the men there were sent from the Akkala region and the Great Forests of the North- both areas being a militaristic powerhouse that produced more than seventy percent of Hyrule’s knights. And, with Goron City's forges providing excellent weapons or armor for those men, their victories were often guaranteed. Link found that boring. The information would rattle around in his head as he plotted just how he would break that cycle.

Things like that were one of the only subjects he was dedicated to studying- dissecting, and beyond the art of warfare, he wasn’t nearly as educated as the rest of the squires present. It was yet another thing that made him a target of scrutiny. But, luckily, there was another person there that day who seemed to draw the attention away from him.

Between the openings of the balcony railings, a mop of blonde hair could be seen. The princess sat hunched over, boots kicking. She blatantly wasn’t paying any attention to the ceremonies; instead, Zelda scribbled furiously on a notepad, mouth pressed into a thin line with concentration. Even from a distance she looked disheveled- shaking as if she woke up only minutes ago and downed some sort of powerful green elixir.

“...She’s weird,” Link commented. 

A pair of round eyes snapped upwards- locking viciously onto him before returning to ink and parchment just as quickly.

The man next to him elbowed his side. _"Lower your voice,"_ he scolded through his helmet.

The announcements ended. Several of his fellow competitors looked down at him, as perplexed as Link was by the fact his name hadn't been used. It wasn't until King Rhoam frowned that he understood why.

The man turned to his guards' captain. He was asking something, but their voices were too low to pick out anything coherent. The old guard gestured towards Link’s father during their conversation, and by the end of it Rhoam turned red as a radish- his head snapping towards the man.

Oh, he was angry.

His father said something, completely unperturbed. Then his captain spoke, and then another royal guard further to the left.

Whatever was said calmed the king down, and he begrudgingly sat back on his plush throne. Still, Rhoam glared daggers. A finger tapped away. Link felt a chill. He squirmed; it was vastly uncomfortable having the king’s full attention, and he wasn’t sure if he should be grateful that they snuck him into the competition last second or not. Regardless, he stood taller and swallowed down his nervousness. It was far too late to stop anything now.

Line by line, the squires marched to the edges of the ring. Half stood on one end and the other opposite of them.

 _"Arms high!"_ the announcer bellowed. Each squire lifted their weapons with the roaring surge of war drums.

Zelda finally raised her head, a look of wonder passing over her.

When the crescendo reached its peak, the sound vanished- replaced by the command: 

_"Charge!"_

Dust and dirt were expelled into the air, kicked up by the sudden clash. Link’s height would become a surprising advantage in the early stages of the battle as he ducked beneath an array of weapons: hammers, halberds, and broadswords sailing over his head- the sound of metal clanging against steel a shrill ring in his ears.

He remained low, kicking at the back of his opponents’ knees. Their legs gave out from beneath them one by one. Hylian armor was heavy, and recovery took longer than usual in the sandy terrain. Those who fell were overwhelmed by other contestants quick to take advantage of their prone positions. He almost felt bad for them, yelping and being kicked around like footballs.

Some of the more skilled fighters managed to catch themselves by thrusting their weapons into the dirt or stabilizing their descent with the deft footing of a proper stance. But, it was enough to break their focus. Link didn’t hesitate to jump and ram the flat side of his weapon against their heads: knocking them over completely.

By the time ten were left on their feet, individual battles had broken out. Link discarded his claymore in favor of a broadsword and speed before he skidding to a halt. A silhouette loomed over him: the visage of a tall man standing amidst a pile of fallen contestants.

“I don’t want to fight you, kid,” he declared, armor clanking as he stomped toward him. 

The medallion at his shoulder was the image of a cliffside: Ridgeland- a region which bore brawny, stubborn, and arrogant men. The smirk on that man's face certainly didn't help his region's reputation. However, while he blatantly underestimated his smaller opponent, he at least had the common sense not to lower his weapon. Even an unattended toddler with a knife could wreak plenty of havoc.

Link would ignore the warning. He sprinted towards him to exchange several blows. When he backpedaled to avoid a particularly long jab, another squire went tumbling between them- sent flying by a halberd that had been thrown at him during all the chaos. He was lucky; the weapon was pitifully weak and snapped to pieces against the solid metal of his chest plate. Nevertheless, it still left him planted in the dirt. Wheezing. Groaning.

Link jumped over him. The Ridgeland soldier lifted his blade high, waiting for him to come close so he could bring it down on his head. He knew this, yet pressed on anyway- he wanted to bait him into making that move.

When he brought the weapon down, Link raised his sword arm to block it- the blades perpendicular as they clattered against each other. He reached forward with his free hand, wrapped his fingers around the pommel of the other man’s sword, and ripped it from his grasp with a level of strength no one would expect from a child.

It took the squire a second to realize that his sword had been stolen from him, and the boy before him now had two blades crossed and pointing towards the gaps in his armor. He was quick to raise his arms in surrender, looking all too bewildered as Link threw the second blade aside. For extra measure, he kicked him to the ground. If he got any ideas about getting up again, the loose sand and his wounded pride were sure to make it difficult.

By the time Link turned, there were five contestants left.

Two more needed to fall.

His eyes darted from one skirmish to the next. One of the duos had disarmed each other long ago, resorting to a fist fight. The other group- most likely including the man who threw that halberd earlier- were engaged in aggressive battle with identical spears. Choosing the lesser of two evils, Link sprinted off towards the first two. On his way there, he snatched up a blue and white shield. The one with an Akkala emblem had the other in a chokehold: his feet dangling off the ground- and it was when he saw Link barreling their way that he shoved the other man at him like a ragdoll. Link merely batted the man aside with his shield.

There was an audible grunt as he face-planted into the Earth.

One down.

Link's final opponent kicked at him, and although the move was blocked with his shield, it sent him flying backwards. He was too small- too light to maintain his ground. Teeth grit. Impatience seized him before his feet even touched the ground again. Dust showered around him as he skidded, used the momentum to spin, and flung his shield like a boomerang.

It closed the space to that man's helmet in an instant. A hollow _clang_ reverberated across the arena- the noise piercing- and for a fleeting moment, the cheering crowd fell silent. He teetered back and forth like a pendulum before giving into the dizziness, his arms splayed wide as he collapsed with all the grace of a sack of flour. The shield landed near him a second later, drumming against the dirt.

Several seconds passed while the judges waited for anyone to stand. Whether they were exhausted, scared, or injured- none did. A horn blared to signal the end of the fight, and the last two squires quit their squabbling immediately, startled by the sudden noise. 

One of them squealed like a girl and fist bumped his opponent the moment they realized they'd won. Link sighed, a little tired himself. Upon seeing him shuffling toward the center of the arena, those two men pointed dramatically at him, making some kind of squawking noise. Mirth there. Incredulity. He waved awkwardly.

They joined him in the middle after removing their headgear. Despite their prideful, puffed chests, it wasn't a very inspiring sight. The lot of them were bruised and bloodied- one of them sporting a missing tooth. Link, however, was only drenched in sweat and dirt. He glanced over, pleased to see that one of the other victors was in fact his red-haired acquaintance. He wore Tabantha's carving of a bow and arrow on his shoulder- a sign he was far from home.

“I warned them, but they wouldn’t listen,” he shrugged. The young man's breathing was labored, but he sported a lop-sided grin. Link evaluated him, squinting. His eyes were amiable: a pale blue. The color reminded him of nightshades, and it was quickly decided he was someone trustworthy. He gave one or two nods, a shrug, and earned a baffled look from the other man. No doubt he didn't have a clue what kind of inspection was just carried out.

Nevertheless, he saluted the young man. It earned a hearty chuckle.

When it was time for Rhoam to congratulate them, the king hesitated. He looked a little dumbfounded until the captain of the guard gave him a subtle nudge, prompting him to clear his throat and leap to his feet. Arms were spread wide. A deep breath taken.

“All of you fought well, today!” he shouted. The king was not the most optimistic man, but in that moment he had nothing but praise- even for the men still crawling off the sand. There were a few more words of respect: a declaration that their accomplishments were no small feat. At the end of it, he extended a hand towards his daughter, who then stood and began to walk down the stairs to the ring. “Until your final test, you will wear these tokens as proof of your victory.”

Hanging from Zelda’s palm were three violet bands trimmed with yellow. Rubies sat embedded at the center of the medals, refracting light alongside her golden hair as she moved out from the shade.

She was still as short as Link, and the other two men had to awkwardly bend over so she could slip the medals over their heads. The princess stayed in front of them, whispering a repeat of her father’s congratulations and a prayer to the Goddess.

When Zelda came to a halt in front of Link, she didn’t murmur congratulations to him or ask Hylia to ensure his safety. She was quiet. Imposing.

(Her face was smeared with dirt- like his own. Unkempt hair. Fingers stained with ink. Even her clothes smelled of oil, and it made him wonder if she’d gotten into a couple fights of her own. It would confuse him for another four years until he realized her father must have dragged her away from an expedition for the event. She was rebellious and studious even as an eleven-year-old girl.)

“How’d you do it?” she asked. The question surprised him. Her expression was passive- stern, yet her eyes were searching for something. Wide. Intrusive. “How did you always know what to do?”

Feeling pressured, he blabbed the first thing that popped in his head, “I didn’t think.”

A forehead wrinkled. “...At all?”

“I… thought… Akkala’s mascot is ugly.”

Zelda blinked, almost flinching. Whatever she expected to come out of his mouth, it wasn’t that. 

Oh, he was stupid.

The other Lurelin victor snorted. Embarrassment seized him. Though, just as quickly as it appeared, the feeling vanished when Zelda began to laugh herself. She tried to hide it, but her face split into a wide grin just like her mother’s.

“You’re weird,” the princess stated, and slipped purple silk over his head. Despite it all, the tenor of her voice was gentle as she praised him:

“ _Good work._ ”

Hours later, when the setting sun was a glare of orange on the horizon, Link rode home next to his father. He absentmindedly patted his horse’s neck, running his fingers through the coarse chestnut mane.

“Was the king angry at you?” He broached a question that had been worrying him, just a little. 

His response was lofty: unconcerned as he swayed with his horse’s lazy stride. “A bit. But he wasn’t in any position to judge.”

“What do you mean?”

There was a glance Link's way and a quiet mutter, his tone sobered, “...Parents expect too much from their kids, sometimes.”

He didn’t understand completely, but decided not to press the subject any further. His father hummed a tune to fill the silence. He was pleased, Link was one step closer to his own dream of becoming a knight, and that was enough.

“So,” the man inquired once sunlight died and fireflies began to flicker to life, “how was your first time meeting the princess?”

He took a moment to ponder his flat answer, “She’s like a horse.”

“... _What?_ ”

“She was scary at first, but I think she might be nice.”

He was certain his father was going to tell him he was being ridiculous, but instead, he stroked his chin in contemplation. “Huh... You might be on to something there, brat.”

Link felt a little pride at that.


	3. The Studious and The Mighty: Part Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for the lovely comments! This is probably where the direction of Link's character development becomes a little more tangible, and I can't wait to write the interaction between him and Zelda after this chapter

For some reason, Link felt more at peace under the cover of the Great Forest than anywhere else in Hyrule. He stayed there for days after drawing his sword, completing the myriad of trials and tribulations the forest spirits had put together for him. 

Sometimes, he would wake up completely covered in the Great Deku Tree’s falling petals: a pale pink bush of twigs and flowers. Usually when an unsuspecting Korok would pass by, Link jumped out, startling the small forest spirit.

Most would stand there in the shower of petals and flail their arms or smack him with a stick. Eventually, the surprise would fade and they would laugh with him before skittering off to do whatever it was Koroks did in their spare time. It was worth it despite the bruises.

Whenever the Deku Tree was awake, he would offer a soft chuckle at their antics. 

“I am glad,” he said out of the blue one day as Link passed by, a pair of Koroks riding on his shoulders, “that you seem to be enjoying yourself.”

“I like it here,” he replied, and patted the head of one of his attendants. “It’s calming.”

He expected the tree to smile, but he only pursed his lips in thought. “I am surprised to hear that.”

Link turned to face him completely. The Koroks on his shoulders jumped off, sensing the sudden change in the atmosphere. 

“...Why?” he asked.

“Do you remember your first visit here? When you were still young?” the question was a hesitant one- the words chosen carefully and slowly as if not to startle a wild animal.

“No.” Link admitted, concerned.

There was a lengthy sigh. “That,” he said with finality, “is probably for the best.”

Some kind of ruth was lurking beneath bark and branches. But, try as he may to reap a proper answer from that spirit's expression, it was proving too difficult.

All he could do was assume the great spirit knew what he was talking about and continue about his business. He did exactly that for another week, yet the worry stayed with him, clinging to his leg- slowing his step. And it was only as he went to depart from the forest under the cover of starlight that he glanced back at that empty pedestal and remembered.

Fate couldn’t be thwarted, and it was a lesson that had tormented that Link for two years before he accepted that truth.

His hand was over his eyes as images- memories flit behind them. Green lights bathed stone walls, papers scattered into the air, and voices raged in Hyrule Castle's sanctum: the king's easily heard above it all. A rueful grin spread across his face. Goddess, he was stupid, wasn't he?

When he looked up at the Deku Tree again he was awake, looming over him with a heavy sorrow. He already knew, it seemed.

(Link always thought Impa and the Deku Tree shared that unique quality to pick apart the world around them with such ease. Somehow, they always knew, always understood what he was thinking with a glance. Maybe it came with age. Or maybe, he was just too easy to read. Six months he'd been awake; it hadn't given him much time to relearn that impenetrable stoicism of his they claimed was so famous. And maybe he should have been disturbed by it, but their intuitiveness was a blessing in disguise. He could rarely find the words, after all, making it a comfort not to struggle for purchase when he was around them.)

“I am sorry,” the Deku Tree called as he walked away, “and I hope you will continue to see our forest as a place of respite if you are ever to grow weary.”

“I’ll be back,” Link assured him as he lit his torch. It crackled in his ear as the falling petals caught flame, turning to ash in an instant. “...I always am.” 

  


* * *

  


Ironically, the imperial guards chose the stalfos of an old Hinox as their test. Workers dug up the bones during the day and threw them in the cramped quarters of a prison cell by the evening. It took three days and three separate skeletons for the trial to be complete.

The test was laughably easy for Link. Even his fellow victors passed without much difficulty, something which pleased him.

(He’d grown to like them during their encounters. Nearly everyday over four weeks those two men had found him wandering near the training grounds and snatched him up- dragging him off to eat dinner with them or participate in stupid games. What on Earth they saw in him, he hadn't a clue, but they were good-natured. Oddly agreeable compared to all the gruff older men Link had been raised by.)

The other knights grumbled something petty, though. They seemed to be completely uninterested in anything they couldn’t bet on, and Link was beginning to wonder just how boring their jobs really were. Still, in the months to pass, he enjoyed himself.

They were all sent off to training in the Northern military camp of the Great Forest for several months. By that point, it was less to hone their skills and more to teach them proper etiquette.

“One slip of the tongue, and you might lose it!” an old woman grouched, smacking her walking stick against a chalkboard. “How do we answer to kings and queens?”

“Your Majesty,” the classroom droned.

“Princes and princesses?!”

“Your Royal Highness.”

 _“Good!”_ She yelled. “Now off to the ballroom with you. Ser Walde will have you waltz!”

Most of them groaned alongside the scraping of chairs as they all got up, shuffling out the door.

Link was ruthlessly targeted by instructors. Most of the knights already came from nobility, and had their manners reinforced throughout childhood- but not him. The moment he was discovered squatting on the ramparts, frying an egg using his own helmet in the sun, it became clear that he was going to be the problem student.

 _‘The Project’,_ Anabelle, the belligerent speech instructor, so lovingly called him.

(However, he was a quick study; Ser Walde was especially baffled after witnessing Link execute a flawless waltz his first attempt, and the lesson that day quickly devolved into his classmates playing cards off to the side whilst their instructor challenged him to do more and more complicated dances. By the end of it, he knew how to dance the Jig, Egg, Morris, and apparently, toss a wench. The session ended after he tossed the wench- Ser Walde- a little too high, and a group of his classmates had to catch the man before he experienced an early introduction to Hylia.)

Despite the gap in age his classmates hardly batted an eye at his presence. Word had spread of what he'd accomplished, yet most people seemed to find it more amusing than offensive that he broke tradition. As such, they all spent their nights huddled by bonfires, Link sitting wide-eyed in the midst of it all listening to stories and loud banter. When August came around, his birthday passed. The men he knew from the tourney cooked a prime steak to celebrate; and the mound of food had a burning toothpick stuck in it: an earnest and somewhat pitiful attempt at a makeshift candle.

The red haired one was Terry, Balder was from Faron, and Link made sure not to forget either of their names.

Looking back, Thadd, the Hateno town guard, was right that Hylians were generally good folk. Even a century ago his words rang true.

It was when the leaves began to change color and a chill swept over the training grounds that a procession of horses and soldiers came marching. They were quiet: arriving in the early hours of the morning- and by the time he stirred at the beat of hooves last night’s bonfire was a mound of glowing embers.

There was a snort- reins shaking. Link opened his eyes, squinting against the light of the rising sun only to see a pale horse was looming above him. Its armor was a tint of obsidian- the caparison flowing off its back a heavy fabric: colored like wine. He froze- alarmed as he slowly looked up. Though, there was no need to even take a glance at its rider; those vivid colors would easily betray the identity of that glaring silhouette above him.

Rhoam stared down at him from atop his mount. It was an imposing sight, but he was grinning beneath his beard, tickled by the picture of forty knights passed out on top of one another.

“Your Majesty!” one of them shouted in horror, and the men all snapped awake, scrambling to their knees.

“At ease,” the older man turned his horse to continue up the path, teasing, “I’ll have Anabelle scold you boys later.”

They exchanged glances. None of them could be at ease. Something wasn't right at all. 

King Rhoam was in a good mood.

The line of horses strolled after him, and one of the men jeered at Link, “Get ready for a long day, brat!” 

That gravelly tone was easy to recognize. When he spied his father in the passing crowd Link responded with a dramatic scowl, scrunching his nose. As expected, the man cackled; he must have been a witch in his previous life.

 _‘It’s good to see you,’_ was what his father meant in his own churlish way.

As it turned out, the man was right. King Rhoam traveled there for a very specific reason.

Not everyone at the training camp was summoned to the auditorium. It was the graduating class of fifteen; those who were deemed educated enough to be let loose into Hyrule and assigned to the many different outposts or fortresses across the kingdom. As strict as his teachers were, they all voted that Link's group was ready even without completing their full training- though, he had a theory Anabelle was just eager to get rid of them. They were all a rowdy bunch, after all: causing more trouble than they were worth.

“Normally we throw you all a feast before your graduation,” Rhoam explained, “but today, we will depart into the Lost Woods, and each of you will attempt to pull the sacred blade from its pedestal.”

There was a meaningful pause.

“It has been foretold that Hylia’s Champion will reveal himself very soon. This,” he gestured to the group, arms splayed wide, “is where we will start.”

Their reward would be a chance at glory, he claimed. Fame. Power, and all that came with it.

At the time, Link didn’t think much of it- care much for it. The existence of a hero was just a legend, a myth; it was a story not too different from the boogeyman parents made up to scare unruly children. His father tried. Needless to say, it didn’t work.

(If it was true, no Goddess was sane enough to hand him a holy weapon. He could barely go a day without breaking something with his antics- which was a fact Link was aware of even back then. That’s what he believed, foolish in a way only someone as young as he could be. The Goddess was as cruel as she was benevolent, after all, something which Zelda proved through the mere irony of her existence.)

Rhoam must have been excited to begin, because they left immediately after their breakfast. The distance between the woods and the training camp was smaller than he would have guessed- a stone's throw up the mountain. The men leading them clearly knew the way, arriving at the entrance to those woods by the time the afternoon set in. Fog descended. Figures- faces distorted in all the rolling mists. Crumbling stone passed, and branches creaked despite the mild winds. Somewhere, wolves would howl. Soldiers followed in a perfectly straight line behind the rows of torches, reluctant and careful not to stray from the path King Rhoam forged through that eerie forest.

It was a wonder: arriving in the home of the Koroks. The area where the spirits lived was unaffected by the season’s change, and it looked as if Summer never left. Even the breeze that now flowed through the tree canopies was warm- gentle. A welcome respite from the harsh cold.

Back then, the Deku Tree did not greet them. There was no doubt he recognized Hyrule's king the moment he stepped across the threshold of his forest, yet he returned to snoring after taking one unimpressed peek at the man and his train of soldiers. It would make him raise an amused eyebrow or two a century later; despite being an immemorial spirit with seemingly infinite wisdom, he also must have been foolish in believing the day wouldn’t reap any surprises. Ten thousand years of silence- what was one more day? 

Koroks did not stir or rattle their maracas, either. There was no hint of the rowdy nature Link would become so accustomed to a century later. And in all their stillness, they didn’t look any different from the fauna littering the forest floor. Still, he could sense the weight of their gaze.

The sword was unmarred by the passage of time. It looked more like a thread of light to him, the way it glowed so brightly in the sunlight. The cerulean of silent princesses were reflected along the blade, and it bounced colors across the stone in a fractal pattern. It looked as if the sword itself was embedded into a pane of stained glass, and he would marvel at the sight alongside his fellow soldiers.

Guards left one offering of flower seeds before the Deku Tree as a way to apologize for their intrusion, hinting at where the vast array of plants littering the forest may have sprouted from. 

He couldn’t remember what place in line he was to pull the sword, but he knew he wasn’t the first or the last. Terry went, then Balder, then a number of royal guardsmen- then a few more. His own father hung back, yawning from against a tree trunk. Link could guess King Rhoam had already forced him to try years ago, talented as that man was. Yet- despite all his uninterested behavior, he clearly wasn't bored: snickering at all their pitiful endeavors to draw the blade. Some men passed out from the attempt while others flinched away as if it gave them an electric shock. A couple even retched into the grass. Koroks fled from the sickly men, whining and disgusted.

Rhoam was the picture of patience, taking each failure in stride.

When the king waved at Link to take a stab at it, he was eager to get it over with and return to the camp for another meal. It might be funny if he passed out like the others, he thought.

His hand lazily wrapped around the handle only for it to give way without a shred of resistance- the movement nearly imperceptible.

Something in Link snapped. He hesitated, gripped by shock. Nausea. Tunneled vision. He wanted to vomit, but not for the same reason as the other men. Rhoam's heavy gaze didn't help- it made his skin crawl, and he was suddenly keenly aware of the tens of pairs of eyes glued to his back. The rays of light: blinding. The birdsong, the cicadas loud. Too loud. His pulse in his ears. Was this what fear felt like, he wondered?

“Go on, boy,” someone urged, thinking he hadn’t even begun to try, and against every bit of common sense-

Link faked it. 

He made a show of trying and failing and holding his breath so his face would turn red from the exertion.

“Alright, that’s enough,” Rhoam dismissed him. “Onto the next man.”

Predictably, no one else managed to pull the sword that day. With stumbling men and angry Koroks shooing them off, they began the march out only after spending less than an hour there. Link was slow to follow the men out of the forest. He glanced back at the sword, shame and confusion rolling in his gut. Yet as he did so, he spied the Deku Tree’s face move. The bark would wrinkle into a furrowed brow. Concerned. Scrutinizing.

The Great Spirit had been watching. Link broke eye-contact immediately, sprinting off.

He departed from that forest with the dreadful knowledge that there was one attendant he hadn’t been able to fool. It would haunt him for hours, like the heat of a desert sun beating against the back of his neck and searing his flesh. Would the Deku Tree call them back to declare the truth? Expose his cowardice? He had all those fears, but there was only silence in his wake. For reasons he couldn’t comprehend, the tree left him to his own devices, just as his father often did. But this time, Link had no idea what to do with that freedom.

Maybe he imagined it? Maybe there was nothing to worry about?

It was evening by the time they returned to the training camp. Half of the young men collapsed into their beds, their energy completely drained by the Master Sword. Rhoam and his party retired to a more comfortable part of the camp, as well- temporarily taking over the dining hall for their evening meals. They would stay the night before everyone traveled home- Link and his classmates set to depart alongside them.

Sleep came easier than he could have predicted. He dreamed of a void. He dreamed of eyes watching him in the darkness: little dots of green blinking from a distance. They were the eyes of Bokoblins, of does, of foxes- the eyes of a Lizalfos. Something drooled above him, and as he glanced up, the light of a yellow eye cast a spotlight on him.

He flinched awake and sat up from his bunk bed, the springs creaking. Link’s breathing was a little quick, but he made no sound. A brief look out the window told him it was the dead of night.

Slowly, a near-indescribable sensation came over him. It felt like he was gazing at the surface of stagnant water; a mirror to the world above it as it reflected his silhouette with perfect clarity. It was impossible to see past the surface, to see just how deep that water ran. But, for some reason, he needed to know.

The only choice was to step in, and pray it didn’t swallow him whole.

A blue light flickered outside the window. It hovered for a moment before drifting out of sight and into the black expanse. His mind empty, Link threw aside his covers, slipped on his boots, and followed it.

The night was cold. His breath fogged. Dead grass crunched beneath his feet. They were too far North. Link wished the training grounds had been built just a few miles to the East. Perhaps then they’d be able to steal just a bit of Death Mountain’s warmth. Perhaps then- the distance would’ve been too far for Rhoam to bother marching him into that cursed forest.

The blue light he saw was gone, yet he knew instinctively where it would lead him. 

It was quicker on foot than horseback. Link didn’t need to take the usual winding path up the mountainside. He clamored over steep hills and cut through the tree line, taking only an hour to reach the forest. When he arrived at the Lost Woods, no fog descended to meet him.

It was an open invitation, should he take it. 

He lowered his hood as he stood on the small hill overlooking the Master Sword’s pedestal. The daunting sight of it made him consider turning back. Before he could, something touched his leg, and he looked down to see a small Korok there- its hand gripping the top of his boot as it stared up at him. Was it trying to encourage him?

Taking a deep breath, Link put out his torch and approached the platform.

Just like before, he felt no resistance when his fingers wrapped around that handle. Metal scraped against stone as he lifted it- the noise loud and deafening in the quiet. Bright light flashed: a pulse of energy kicking up leaves as the shockwave rolled across the earth. His hands felt numb- his limbs tired. It felt as though something intangible had seeped into his skin, infesting and taking root.

 _“Hm?”_ The Deku Tree roused at the noise and sniffed. Seeing Link with the sword in hand, he crowed with wonder, “You’ve returned, boy! I see it was not my imagination.”

The realization he was talking to a tree was slow to set in. “...How can I do this?” he asked, raising the blade a little higher.

The answer was matter-of-fact: “Well, you must be chosen by the Sword.”

“I can’t be.”

“Why not?”

“Because-” The words caught in his throat. He didn't know what he wanted to say. The Deku Tree forced them out anyway.

“Because you are young? Because Hyrule is not yet under the rule of a monster? Because you don’t _believe?"_

He was stoney. Angry. “It doesn’t matter.”

The Deku Tree raised his eyebrows at that remark. 

“Take it back,” he commanded, flipping the weapon downward. “I can’t have it.”

The Great Spirit heaved a sigh, chiding him, “You must understand-”

 _“I don’t want this thing!”_ Link erupted- his tone venomous as his voice echoed throughout the silent woodland. _“Take it!”_

“-only a _Goddess_ can return the blade to its pedestal,” The Deku Tree finished. 

He dropped the sword. It clattered onto the stone. “Then I’ll just leave it here.”

“You cannot.” The tree’s voice was a rumble: patient, but stern. “It is a part of you now. If you separate yourself too far from that blade you will die.”

Link fell into a dumbfounded silence. 

What had he _done?_

Despite his outburst, the Great Spirit remained sympathetic. “You may not want to hear this, but it is your fate. You _are_ meant for this.”

He grit his teeth, hands fisting into the ends of his tunic. When he began to shake, the Deku Tree amended almost pitifully, “Though, you are not ready.”

Something rattled. Several Koroks reluctantly approached, walking to the sword at Link’s feet. Without a word, they picked it up and waddled off with it.

“Do not fret,” The Great Spirit comforted him, “danger is still far on the horizon. For the time being, we will help you hide away... Why don’t you sit?”

He did as the tree asked. He pulled his knees against his chest, and pressed his forehead into his arms, fighting for control. He’d never lost his head like that before. It was humiliating. Childish.

But, wasn’t he still a child?

Half an hour of tense silence passed before the Koroks returned with a completely different sword. They jumped a bit, pressing him to take it. When they passed it to him, he noticed it was the same weight as the Master Sword, yet its pommel was a modest brown. Where there were once a set of matching wings, there was nothing but flat silver.

It was utterly boring to look at.

“It has been necessary to disguise the Evil’s Bane many times throughout history,” The Deku Tree explained to him as he stood. “When the Goddess left, she passed on many tricks to us woodfolk.”

“...But they’ll know it’s disappeared.”

“It doesn’t matter,” he echoed Link’s words and chuckled. “I will tell them I was too drowsy to notice who took it. What could the king do? Stamp his foot and threaten to pluck a few leaves from my branches?”

He didn’t know what to say. His legs almost gave out beneath him from the relief. “Thank you,” Link murmured, bowing low. _“I’m so sorry.”_

A smile graced the tree’s face. “When you feel you are ready, simply place the sword within a fire. Its true form will return then.”

Wordlessly, Link strapped the sword to his back and turned to leave.

His heart was heavy. He couldn’t bring himself to say anything more- to tell the tree he doubted he would ever be ready. Back then, he'd deluded himself into believing a simple life was what he wanted: the life that his father laid out for him. A knight, a guard- no one of import. Just a kid who was handy in a fight. The last thing he wanted was the attention of all of Hyrule- least of all the king.

When he looked back one final time, the Deku Tree was already dozing off.

Maybe for that tree, it really was just another normal day.

The next morning, Link stared ahead at the silhouette of Hyrule Castle. He rubbed his temples a bit, trying to expel some of his lethargy. The night before, he barely managed to get back before sunrise. A guard kicked open the doors to rouse those still asleep mere seconds after he slipped back into his bed, his knuckles white and his hands shaking as he gripped the sheath of his new sword.

He was keenly aware of the sword on his back as they rode now- the way it shifted with every rise and fall of his mount's step. They were none the wiser, he thought. It became a mantra he chanted to himself just to remain calm every time someone so much as glanced in his general direction. He wasn't naive enough to believe he could carry on the charade forever. The other shoe would drop eventually. The question wasn't if, but _when_ , and in that line of thinking, Link had more in common with King Rhoam than he ever thought possible.

Looking at that spired, glittering castle in the distance, a frightening thought occurred to him:

Was this lie treason?

Luckily, his father saved him from drowning in paranoia once he appeared next to him. He matched his horse’s pace with Link’s, asking, “What’s this your friends just mentioned to me about a wench and _Ser Walde?”_

He blinked. It took a moment to dredge up the memory. “Oh. Almost threw him out a window.”

“Good. Serves the old kook right. He’d make me tap dance until the sun came up.” He leaned in, whispering, “Jokes on him, I've wormed my way out of every ball His Majesty’s ever thrown.” 

With that, he rode off to the front, and Link was left with the unsettling mental image of his father tap dancing next to an old man.

Well, at least his father hadn’t changed a bit. Link hoped neither of them ever would.


	4. The Studious and the Mighty: Final

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. Zelda gave Link the slip in a couple memories, and I'm sad it wasn't touched on more in the game
> 
> 2\. Mipha is underrated.

Link sat atop a snow-capped hill on the Great Plateau, the wind harsh and biting. It whipped his hair around his face and pulled at the looser pieces of his clothing, his breath a wisp of fog. The Master Sword rattled on his back. The Sheikah Slate was a block of ice beneath his fingertips.

Before him was a lopsided pillar of stacked rocks. The king’s grave. It stood there, nearly impossible to reach by the average traveler, and overlooked Hyrule all alone in the freezing wind. He wondered if Rhoam made it himself, mourning his life more than his death.

Knowing what he did about King Rhoam, it seemed fitting with just how lonely the thing looked. But it didn’t fit the man he’d met when he first awoke from the Shrine of Resurrection. There was a warmth and forbearance in his heart that Link suspected the queen stole away as she went to her own grave- only returning it to him upon their meeting in the afterlife.

“Death changed you,” he said to the stone, elbows on his knees. "...Maybe me, too."

He stood suddenly and left, leaving behind a plate of spicy meat. It may have been a waste of food, but it was all Link could do to ease the misplaced guilt gnawing at the back of his mind.

He didn’t blame himself for the decision he made in the Lost Woods. The Deku Tree didn’t, either. Still, he couldn’t help but feel some responsibility for the way he fed into the king’s paranoia- his terror.

When Link returned to Kakariko village, Impa asked about his trip as gentle and timid as the tree he'd spoken to not two days ago. Odd that she never hesitated to send him off to every corner of Hyrule, and yet she feared what he'd return with each time. It was only now that he'd started to get an inkling of where that fear came from- all the layers as to why his memories may be a boon to their cause yet a detriment at the same time.

Maybe she hoped he'd never remember her part in it all. It'd be convenient. For them and their work.

He could play dumb. He'd considered it. But, he wouldn't bother. It was history, after all, and he had yet to settle into his own skin; his memories presented a stranger to him- had since the moment he'd woken up and still did. Thus, Link set down the sword next to him as he crossed his legs, staring at the floor.

“You knew,” he remarked. He wasn't stupid, and the accusation in his tone did well to remind her of that.

She made a weary, nervous noise. It mingled with the sound rustling of paper as she shook her head. “Those closest to the king were all told the truth,” Impa admitted, “and you may not have noticed, but I was there in the throne room when it happened.”

He spied Paya sitting in the far corner of the house, shadowed and quiet as a mouse. A frown. Blinking eyes in the firelight. She looked troubled by the strange conversation unfolding before her, yet her mouth remained glued shut. He suspected Impa had been hiding away just the same all those years ago, observing- ruminating. Most likely, she didn’t want to step out and risk becoming the object of the king’s wrath.

He couldn’t blame her. The Sheikah had always been on thin ice. Unjustly so, but that was reality, and she had a responsibility to her people.

“Link,” Impa broached, her boney fingers tying together with worry, “I have always been curious. What changed your mind about all of it?”

He laughed, breathless and cynical. “Nothing changed my mind. I just wanted to stay in control.” He paused briefly, and muttered, “...That’s all.”

No, he didn’t suddenly change his mind and start to believe that holding the Master Sword was some sort of privilege.

The thought- privilege- brought Mipha's face to mind. It was something always associated with Hyrule’s nobility- their monarchs. Even the princess said it herself once, quietly admitting her own fault in it all.

“I suspect it’s why the Goddess made me. To heal, and make things right as best I can,” she said in that airy tone of hers. Mipha cradled her spear and stared out over the blue-tinted expanse of Zora’s Domain, the emotions behind her gaze difficult to read. “I want that to be my purpose.”

She looked at him after she finished speaking, her eyes drawn to the sword on his back. Mipha was always open and honest, but lived a life saturated in half truths and small sacrifices. She was exactly like the Hylian’s royal family in that way. Her connection to magic was strong enough to rival Zelda’s as well, and it scared him to remember that in that moment, when they stood atop the dam, there wasn’t any doubt that she knew what was really strapped to his back.

It scared him even more that she was able to hide it so perfectly, giving him a nudge here or there. A century had passed before he realized just how much she influenced him in her own subtle way, and if Mipha were still alive, Link was certain her ability to see through people would have surpassed even The Great Spirit of the forest. It was lost potential, and Link felt the hole Mipha's death left behind more deeply than any of the other Champions.

That conversation took place nearly two years after his visit to the Lost Woods. The lie had become easy to maintain by then: business as usual. Link never caught wind of a party returning to the forest to try their hand at drawing the Sword; but he was certain one did. And, he was certain that they did so only to see there was nothing but flat stone and idle Koroks to fill the empty space. Maybe they rattled a maraca or two- mischievous and tight lipped.

Though, whenever or however the information was presented to the king, he couldn't predict. No public announcements were made. No rumors floating about. No doubt it was to save face. Admitting to all of Hyrule that someone had snuck into the Great Forest and stole away the most precious heirloom in history was not something the king wanted to advertise.

Whatever search was conducted was done quietly. And as he would find out, it was the Sheikah who were enlisted for it.

The silence had bothered him for months; yet it eventually slipped from his mind entirely- comforted by the knowledge that he would never be the target of their suspicion. He grew numb to the worry, and he used the time to go about his life as normal, paying visits to the colosseum and Zora’s Domain.

“When did you get that sword?” Mipha had asked when she greeted him at the entrance to that city. “The handle's thread is a lovely green.”

“A gift,” he said, which wasn’t entirely a lie.

She cocked her head, jewels clinking. “From... whom?”

“It was for graduating from the academy.”

“...I see,” she lifted her spear and walked backwards, dismissing the subject. “Come, will you? I would like you to meet my new baby brother. He’s a gem.”

Sidon was about the size of a dinner plate. Link knew this because when they arrived at her father’s throne room, he was sitting on one. Sidon chewed a sirloin, teeth sharp as razors, and he was momentarily convinced that he was staring at a younger version of himself. 

“I am pleased that you two have become such good friends,” King Dorephan had said to no one in particular as Link spun the plate their young prince sat on. He giggled and nudged Link to do it again. 

“Yes, how could I not be friends with the boy who saved my life?” Mipha said. It was a good natured jeer- a reference to how they met when Link was only four. 

He didn’t remember, but according to the stories he’d strayed from his father’s envoy when they arrived at the border of Zora’s Domain. He’d never seen a Zora before, so when he spied Mipha jumping off a bridge into the water, Link scampered after her in a panic- hoping to save her from drowning in the rough current.

In the end, Link was the one saved. Both of their parents were greeted with the sight of their children waltzing back into town, both sopping wet and one's teeth chattering louder than a cartful of metal buckets. Apparently, it was endearing enough that the Zora people went on to adopt him in some strange fashion- always spoiling him when he came to visit. While seemingly polar opposites, he and Mipha remained in contact with letters. It was how he learned to read: trying to decipher all her spiraling and curling penmanship.

The Zora princess insisted he stay for several days only so that they could celebrate his fifteenth birthday before he left. It came and went with little splendor save for a present from her. It'd been amidst the next day's early morning fog that the two siblings waved him goodbye. Though, really, it was Mipha jokingly waving the hand of a baby sleeping in her arms.

She called to him once he got farther away, instructing adamantly, “Don’t you dare open it until you get home!”

He did as she said, keeping it tucked away safe in one of his traveling packs for the several-week-long trip. It was late when he arrived at his family’s cabin; and he shut the door carefully- not wanting to wake his snoring father. A match sparked, candlelight flared, and he untied the delicate fabric surrounding the gift. It fell away to reveal a chest small enough to carry in two hands. 

Beneath that creaking lid was a note tucked away with a brilliant spotted conch shell. He flipped open the paper, skimming Mipha’s words. It was a short note. Quick to the point, just like him.

_‘You said you missed the sound of the waterfalls here, so I hope this will give you some comfort.’_

He'd smiled. Tired. Wistful. But ultimately, content.

That night, Link fell asleep with the shell pressed to his ear, and didn’t dream of hideous yellow eyes for the first time in two years. 

  


* * *

  
With his vacation over, Link returned to his guard duties. Perhaps due to his father's presence and his familiarity with the area, he was assigned to guard the castle- spending most of his time there patrolling the ramparts and kicking stray rocks down the cliffs into dark waters. His captains were seemingly enthralled with the idea that he forever spent his shifts at night. He was good with monsters after all, and was one of the few soldiers who actually wanted to sprint after Lizalfos trying to worm their way under the canals.

They assumed it was just because he was strong, which was partly true, but fighting them had become remarkably easier since he acquired the Master Sword. They would burn, scream, and turn to mist within a matter of seconds. For a blade that was supposedly forged by the Goddess' gentle hands, it was unforgiving and violent in its nature.

Regardless, he didn’t mind those patrols. It was quiet, and the less he had to worry about maintaining etiquette with nobles and royals during the day, the better. The freezing winds were sometimes enough to make him reconsider, though.

It wasn’t until Spring rolled around and the snow melted off of Hyrule’s rooftops that the princess would return from her three-year-banishment. Though that wasn't the _official_ term for her long absence, everyone in the castle called it that whenever King Rhoam wasn’t within earshot. She'd been sent off within a matter of weeks upon being permitted to emerge from her strange confinement, after all: scorned relentlessly by the chantry for the fact that she failed to return with messages from the dead.

Three years it took her to travel the expanse of the country, pray at each remote spring, and assist in the early stages of unearthing the Divine Beasts.

Interestingly enough, Mipha mentioned seeing her briefly in one of her letters after Zelda departed to climb the deadly slopes of Mount Lanayru.

_‘She didn’t seem concerned about climbing the mountain. I thought about sending some of our own just to make sure she was safe, but there were some very intimidating (rather tall) women with her, so I assumed she would be fine. I was already acquainted with the Gerudo Chief Urbosa, and the researcher Purah. I think the third was another Sheikah woman. Her name was Iddie? Inda? Goodness, I can’t remember her name- she was so slippery! I never got the chance to speak with her because she was always hiding somewhere nearby.’_

Mipha ranted a little while longer about Impa’s apparent inability to interact with strangers. It was par for the course; she always hated not being able to greet every traveler that stepped foot in Zora’s domain. Against the wishes of her court, the princess insisted that even the most downtrodden of folk needed a warm welcome.

The more he thought about it, the more Link realized she had more in common with Gorons than her own grouchy elders. 

He never saw Zelda’s arrival to the castle, but the change of atmosphere was notable when he showed up for his shifts- especially whenever he caught glimpses of her drifting through the upper wings. They were all on higher alert. Even his father was rarely given the chance to rest at home.

Somehow, following the teenage princess around was harder work than one would assume. Impa’s slippery behavior must have rubbed off on her, because she excelled at playing disappearing acts on her guards.

There was one story in particular that caught his attention in the dining hall. A frazzled man recounted the events of the day Zelda arrived home. It started normal- the princess attending a ceremony where she was welcomed back by her father. Four royal guardsmen were assigned to escort her back to her quarters once it was over, but she protested, saying she wanted to go to the library instead. With nightfall descending, her father had forbidden it- and apparently the girl decided that was a challenge rather than an order. 

Whilst trudging through the hallway she must have carefully and silently nudged her foot against a table with a vase. It began to teeter only when they passed, falling to the floor seconds later and shattering loudly.

Naturally, the men startled. Spears were raised and drawn toward a threat that didn't exist. When one of them looked back, Zelda had already leapt out the window, discarded her dress, and was sprinting across the courtyard in travel clothes.

They found her in the library, of course, frantically swiping up an armful of textbooks. Needless to say, she was dragged back to her room- but was allowed to keep her precious books.

While Her Royal Highness failed to commune with the dead, she was certainly gifted in playing the part of a ghost herself: what with that ability to vanish at any given moment.

At some point, a game arose. Link stumbled upon a chalkboard that had been set up in the barracks while on cleaning duty- the old thing hidden away behind a crate of rusty shields. On it was a list of captains and their teams: groups that were always swapped out with the day, night, and afternoon shifts spent guarding Zelda. Beneath them were a set of tally marks.

Terry explained to Link that each group would earn a strike every time the princess managed to escape from them. Every five tallies under a captain’s name meant his group would buy drinks for the rest of the guards.

In total, there were thirty-five marks and Zelda had been home for twenty-three days.

“...Somehow, your _dad’s_ winning,” Terry pointed out, scratching his head.

(Link wasn’t as surprised. They stumbled upon a landmine with that one. Alcohol and the thrill of a gamble were the only things that could turn his father into a nightmare to contend with, after all; and few would guess it, but the man was amazing at his job despite how lazy he was outside the castle grounds.

According to him, it was the reason their family had always been allowed so close to the royals despite their lack of noble blood. None could compare to their several-century line of exceptional knights. Thus, King Rhoam himself cared little whether or not his guards were blue-blooded sentinels at his heels.)

Quite some time later, Link walked in on a set of imperial guardsmen discussing strategies on how to beat the girl at her own game, the chalkboard’s face a mess of haphazard scribbles and arrows. All of it was starting to seem ridiculous to him. How hard could it be to keep track of a blonde haired girl running around in neon blue?

As he found out that night, it was immensely difficult. 

Link had been sitting on the Western side of the castle walls, bored and twirling his blade in his hand when he caught sight of a shadowy figure darting across the waterway. He jabbed the guard next to him awake- the man nearly falling over.

“I’ll be back,” he informed him. Before his partner could grouch in protest, he leapt over the wall, rolled onto the grass, and darted excitedly after the phantom.

As fast as he was, there were several moments Link had to skid to a halt and look for tracks. When he got close, there was the flutter of a cloak as it vanished around the corner. He rounded it. The path was a dead end. Pebbles fell from above, and he looked up to see a muddy boot vanishing over the top of the wall. 

He knew where that bulwark led to. Instead of climbing after them, Link turned and ran to a cliffside, taking a shortcut over a fallen log to reach a stairway leading down from the castle wall. Just as he came to it, his target was leaping down the stairs.

They barreled into each other with all the force of- well- barrels.

Link rolled across the earth, his helmet clattering to the side. He recovered much more quickly, leaping to his feet only to see a familiar head of hair splayed across the ground. Zelda’s hands gripped one knee as she rolled around in pain- groaning. 

He was speechless. He should have seen it coming, but he was speechless. 

Before he could help her up, Zelda stumbled to her feet. “Don’t tell anyone you saw me,” she jabbed a finger at him, pulling a curtain of hair from her face. “That’s,” she said between heaves of breath, _“an order.”_

He must have had a dubious look on his face, because she wilted a moment after, whining, “I know, I know, that never works.”

“...Your Royal Highness,” Link managed, “what are you doing?”

It was midnight. Whatever she was up to couldn’t be good. Not that Link was in any position to judge.

She smoothed her hair a bit, only managing to smear more mud across it. “I know, this is very inappropriate behavior, but there was something I wanted to check on-”

Zelda noticed the purple band tucked beneath his chest plate. Her eyes flicked to his, and recognition snapped into place. “Oh! It’s you, I remember you!”

When Link merely regarded her with a blank stare, an awkward look passed over her. “You- do you remember me? The colosseum? I gave you that little badge you’re wearing. I said you were- ah, weird? It’s fair though, because I did hear you call me that.”

“I remember, Your Highness.”

“...Okay,” she said, and launched into a spiel she’d clearly delivered more than once. “Anyway, I won’t be going back no matter what you say. And no, I don’t believe that you have _any_ books waiting for me at my room, I _won’t_ be fooled again-”

Link was already walking away. 

“...Well that was easy,” he heard her mumble, perplexed but pleased at once. 

He turned a corner. When he was certain she couldn’t see him, he stopped, ever so slightly peeking around the edge. Zelda glanced around suspiciously before flipping her hood back over her head and jogging further down the path. For someone who just said they wouldn’t be fooled twice- well, this was shameful.

Link followed- this time at a distance. Protocol could be thrown to the wind. He was curious. 

The only way he managed to keep track of her was with the glimmer of blue light. Something strange hung from her waist, flickering every so often. Occasionally, she’d stop to stare at it, reading or observing. It reminded him of the night he traveled into the Lost Woods- a blue orb drawing him further into the trees. Baiting him. Trapping him.

His common sense returned for a moment, and he almost ended their excursion there. But when Zelda leapt into a bush, the fear melted into a confused frown. It rustled. Once. Twice. He expected her to pop out again, yet it was a rope ladder that was tossed instead: soaring over the small cliffside onto another road below.

When she crawled out, pulling twigs from her hair, she descended it. Link glanced further up the path below. The old mines there, an entrance marked by luminous stones and bent wood.

Even _stranger._

She must have lit torches as she went, because the mines were bright and lit by a trail of crackling flame. A rusty cart sat discarded: its wheels warped and hanging loose. His fingers trailed across rough, damp stone- eyes trained on the pools of water and ice below so as not to disturb them. The less he risked being discovered, the better.

Those mines opened into a large cavern. It appeared Zelda didn’t light any torches in that area because they weren’t necessary; mounds of green stone provided plenty of light, dispelling the darkness with little effort.

She was kneeling near the cavern’s center, shrugging off the pack around her shoulders. What must have been hundreds of papers were chaotically scattered around her. Each of them were a mess of diagrams and notes- some scribbled out in frustration. Books, too, were stacked around the dry areas of the cave, laying open. 

At a glance, Zelda looked like the eye of a storm, her hands sweeping over the parchments like fingers across water.

What was in front of her was much more interesting, however. A hunk of slate, the kind he’d seen Sheikah workers drag through the castle gates. A weak blue light pulsed from etchings along its sides. Though, it sat motionless. Quiet. Smaller than Stalkers. A Skywatcher, he’d heard someone call them.

Link settled at the mouth of the cavern: his legs crossed, a cheek squashed in the palm of his hand, and simply watched Zelda work. His original plan was to see what she was doing to sate his curiosity before bringing her back to her guards; but, the excited way she moved made him reluctant to pull her away from it.

She might have been having fun?

The girl snatched tools from her pack, tinkering, jotting down notes into her books. She often tore out pages from her journal and flung them away. 

Strangely, there seemed to be a pattern to it. Some she threw to the left, others directly behind her, and a few ahead. It was the most haphazard workspace he’d ever seen, yet something told him there was more order to the chaos than it appeared. 

Eventually, Zelda pulled an orb from one of her bags. It was hexagonal and small. He curled his lip at the yellow light that filtered from it but maintained his attention on her as she struggled to lift the Guardian- turning on her back to mess with something beneath it. Legs kicked and slate clicked, the sound of something being screwed into place.

It wasn’t long before she scampered back out, scooped up her strange device, and backed a small distance away from the Guardian. 

Zelda stood with her finger hovering over the small object. He couldn’t see her face, yet the way she stood rigid and shaking was enough to indicate that she was nervous. Hopeful, maybe. 

Even from far away, he could hear the tap of her finger as she pressed the Slate.

Light flashed. It was so bright Link had to squint against the sudden change. They widened again as the Guardian’s blades began to rotate. A strong wind swept through the cave when it lifted itself off the ground, the hum of an engine reverberating off the walls. Zelda’s papers were a shower of white as wind cast them into the air: flurries of snow in a blizzard. She didn’t seem to mind. Maybe it didn't matter anymore. Her feet nearly stumbled over one another as she spread her arms wide and hopped with glee, dancing in circles around that flying object. Of course, the magic of it all was ruined when a few papers smacked her dead in the face, making her stagger. She squawked. Arms flailed. Link snorted.

The princess startled at the sound, her head jerking in his direction. A hand flew to his mouth, embarrassment seizing him.

They stared, motionless. Her knees were a little bent like she was considering running, but the girl just stood there dumbly knowing he was blocking the only exit. Link's amusement returned at the sight of it. His father always told him he was the feral one, yet Zelda somehow surpassed him in that moment: hair tangling wildly in the breeze, her face marred with paper cuts and mud. She looked like a monkey that had just been caught stealing fruit.

Once the Guardian’s blades slowed down and the wind died, she collected herself.

“I should have seen this coming,” she admitted in a huff. She really should have.

Link scratched his head and stood, crossing the distance between them. He dipped his head in a small bow- apologizing only for the sake of etiquette. Spying on princesses in a cave was probably frowned upon, after all. He knew Anabelle would definitely scowl, at least; and sometimes the spirit of that old woman would come back to haunt him whenever he thought about doing something rude.

It rarely stopped him, though.

She sighed. “If you want to apologize, then please don’t tell anyone about this.”

He shrugged. Link simply wasn’t the type to care. The castle grounds were safe enough- what was the point of surveilling her every hour of the day? Link’s father let him wander off for days on end and he was still alive, wasn’t he?

“You mean it?” Zelda gasped, eyes lighting up. “I- thank you! This project has taken so long, I’d hate to have the rug pulled from under me now.”

He worked up the courage to speak, asking for the second time that night, “...Your Highness, what are you doing?”

She blinked. “You’re interested?”

“Is... that surprising, Your Highness?”

“W-” the princess stuttered, “Well, yes. No one usually is.”

All he could do was shrug again. “I’m probably not smart enough to understand, but you seem to be enjoying it, so you should talk about it.”

Zelda held her Slate a little closer, quiet. She looked touched. When she spoke again, there was a gentle undercurrent in her voice- not unlike the way she spoke to him at the tourney. “That’s precious, thank you.”

She smiled; and Link had to look away.

“I’ll make it simple.” The princess took a deep breath, launching into a somewhat mad lecture, “Normally, we can only unearth Guardians as a whole unit. But over my travels, I’ve gathered the pieces necessary to engineer one myself, and upon returning home, I had some friends help me sneak in the parts. Now, these machines can be quite dangerous; yet I think I’ve managed to build it in such a way that it is incapable of firing at a person." An arm swung out, the gesture exaggerated. " _See?_ There’s no spotlight even though it's in kill mode!”

...It was in _kill mode?_ Link suddenly understood why her father wanted to keep an eye on her.

She was right, however. The Guardian hovered silently now, the eye watching them. It was nothing like the ones from his dreams. It was empty; it didn’t seem to care about them at all.

“My father is very worried that it may mistake a person for a monster should the-” She bit her lip, correcting herself, “-should any attack. So… I’m hoping this will convince him to endorse my research.”

Her fingers drummed across the Slate in her hand. She clung to it the way Mipha always kept her spear close. The way Link always kept his sword close, despite how much he hated it. 

“He doesn’t approve?” He pointed to the Skywatcher, bewildered, “They look cool.”

Zelda laughed a little bitterly, despairing. “No. He thinks it’s a waste of my time.” 

She tapped the Slate, and her Guardian lowered, powering off. “There’s potential in these machines that just isn’t in me. I’ve been making good headway on this, trying to help however I can. But… I’m probably just making trouble for everyone around me," she sucked in a breath. "Oh Hylia, I don’t know why I’m telling you all this. I’m sorry.”

“Who? Your guards?” He pressed. He was forgetting honorifics, but Zelda didn’t seem to care.

“...To name a few.”

Link mused over the way the castle changed when she arrived. Before, workers were so bored most would sleep their days away, buried beneath the winter snow like the gargoyles lining tower walls. It was lackluster- nothing like the brilliant trumpets and fanfare of the colosseum promised. It wasn’t much, but her presence evoked some excitement, and from his perspective that made her plenty valuable. Someone to be admired.

She didn’t know, did she? How could she?

“They think it’s funny, actually,” he let her in on the secret. “We like you.”

“Really?”

He nodded. “They take down scores, to see who you escape from the most.”

_“Really?!”_

Two nods this time. 

“Do you think it’s funny, too?”

“I do.”

Grinning, Zelda bent down and fruitlessly tried to organize the bits of paper scattered around. “I’ll have to keep trying, then.”

She suddenly appeared very tired. The princess was probably getting as much sleep as he was with all his night shifts. 

He moved from one foot to the other in the silence to follow, and very, very carefully stated: “Your Highness, I don’t really understand you.”

When Zelda looked up at him, her face was empty, and the green of her eyes suddenly reminded him of his nightmares. His mouth shut. The princess didn’t blink, waiting for him to elaborate, but he could say nothing under her stare. 

“Does this scare you?” she questioned as she stood ever so slowly. She was referring to the Guardian over her shoulder. “Most people are... They think these machines are monsters.”

 _Your life scares me,_ he thought, but he shook his head and clarified, “You try so hard to be useful. I don’t understand why, Your Highness.” 

Zelda was thinking. “These Guardians- the technology- works easier after my touch. I don’t know why, but it feels right. Like I was _meant_ for it.”

Just like the way his sword had bent to his will so easily, Zelda must have experienced the same when she studied that old technology.

But no one expected her to do all that. Instead of spreading herself so thin trying to live some sort of double life, why didn’t she just continue to travel? Why bother coming home to study? She could run, couldn’t she? Ask to go on another pilgrimage?

Normally he wouldn’t dare ask his next question, but Zelda was surprisingly honest, and didn’t seem to mind sharing. He wasn’t sure why he was so interested, either. 

“Why does His Majesty reject the idea?”

Her head swayed a bit before she settled onto what to say next. “There is… a hole that my mother left behind. My father wants me to fix it, but I don’t think I’ll ever be able to fill it the way he thinks I should. It’s a difference of opinion. And the more I travel, the more I’ve started to realize this might really be the only way I can contribute.”

 _It’s the only way I’ll be worth something,_ she meant.

Whether it was validation given to her by the Goddess or not, she would claw for it, endlessly. There was a spotlight cast upon her by her mother’s legacy, advertising all her shortcomings to the whole kingdom, and she’d dealt with it- struggling to rise above it her whole life while Link’s knees had buckled at the mere thought of it.

He felt like he shouldn’t be near her. He may as well have spat in her face after everything he’d done, the choices he’d made. Hylia, too, spat in Her own descendant’s face by handing him that sword so flippantly, and he couldn’t begin to fathom the kind of rejection Zelda experienced to have such a twisted sense of responsibility.

“I bear it,” she said all too lightly. “I have no choice but to.”

He was too simple of a person for this.

“It’s getting late, Your Highness,” Link pointed out the time, his tone a little curt. He’d clammed up again. Regretful and feeling like he dug too deep or dredged up too many skeletons. He feared he might have caused them both pain.

“...Right.” Zelda gathered her things in silence, most likely blaming herself for his sudden change in tone.

Link escorted her back to her quarters, but as she went to climb the rope ladder leading up to it, she stopped.

“Your name, I never heard it.”

“Link, Your Highness.”

She went to climb a second time, and stopped again. 

“It was... very nice to speak with you again.”

He nodded.

She stared awkwardly. Maybe bashful. “Do I still seem weird to you?”

“Yes,” his answer was a little too blunt.

She wasn't offended, and giggled, “That’s fair. I still think you’re weird, too. Goodnight, Link.” 

He smiled. “Goodnight, princess.”

A third time, she looked up at that ladder, and didn’t climb. 

“I’m sorry,” she blurted, trying to shake some sort of fog out of her head. “That sword. Where did you get it? I get such a strange feeling looking at it.”

He tried to hide the chill spreading beneath his skin. The fear. “...What do you mean?”

“Well it just-” she huffed, apologizing. “I’m sorry, I must be so tired. It looks like two things at once to me.”

Link did not return to his shift that night. 

With due diligence, however, he stopped by the barracks, tore away the cloth covering the blackboard, and added a tally. Once that was done he left, walking past the castle gates, past the stables where his horse waited, and all the way home.

The sun was rising: a crack of flame in the night behind him. He’d taken the sword and its sheath off his back, gripping it tightly in his hand.

The door to his house was in sight. It was a modest thing, standing alone in the woods. A plume of smoke rose from the chimney, telling him that his father was still there sleeping away the long night.

_“Hello, boy.”_

A voice greeted him. Smooth, passive, yet demanding all at once. When he turned to glare at the owner, he saw a woman standing in the middle of the path, arms crossed.

Tall, dark clothing- a white braid and painted face.

She was very _clearly_ Sheikah.

“You know, there _are_ some guards that our princess cannot escape from," was her vague introduction. “Could you clear something up for me? I am curious why you did not answer Her Highness’ question.”

“...What question?”

“Don’t play _coy,”_ the woman’s eyes narrowed. That razor sharp tone made Link's eyes dart to the imposing blades hanging at her waist. “That sword in your hand, where did you get it from, again?”

“It was a gift,” he maintained the story he’d invented. 

“For your graduation two years ago?”

He wished that was just an incredibly lucky guess.

“Yes.”

She hummed, musing over something. 

“What?” Link asked. 

“Hm? Oh, nothing,” she shrugged, the paper on her hat rustling. “You should rest. You’ve had quite the long night. Please, tell your father Impa said hello.”

Her fingers wiggled in a little wave before she left, a bit of dust floating where she stood. 

He could only stare at that empty space, jaw tensing and bitterness splintering in his chest. It was unfair, he thought. It was cruel.

What he told Impa a century later was true: that his mind hadn’t changed. That evening, speaking with Zelda only reinforced his opinions and made him even less keen to reveal who he was. She lived a horrible life. A miserable one.

He thought about purpose. Mipha talked about it. Zelda talked about it. Being of use, being something more. It was just too dramatic.

At his core, Link believed it was ridiculous to make people prove their worth to the world around them. It made him boil. He didn’t doubt his own self worth or the worth of others, and he didn’t feel the need to prove it to anyone- even the Goddess. It was an unusual kind of courage.

Some might call it a brazen and stupid. But Link was nothing if not a little arrogant.

He unsheathed his sword a bit, staring at the reflective blade.

Regardless of what Zelda believed, she still possessed a connection to magic. It was something Impa must have known all those years ago, and her strange reaction to the sword was exactly what told the Sheikah woman he needed to be investigated.

He could have continued the charade, maybe by transferring somewhere far away- but not for long at all with Sheikah bloodhounds on his heels. Even seeing Zelda in all her earnest efforts made him feel guilty for not trying. She was still making progress in a meaningful way, chained as she was. It gave him hope that putting himself under King Rhoam’s thumb would not be the end of his life like he thought.

“I knew I could bear it if she could,” Link told Impa and Paya. “But I was too prideful to let it be anyone else’s decision. I had to tell the truth under my own terms before you did.”

He would admit to Impa that none of it was about coming clean. It was about control. It was about rolling with the punches and delivering some of his own along the way.

For the first time in his life, Link did not bother to open the door quietly when he entered his house. Furious, he slammed it open with his boot, nearly ripping it from its hinges, and snatched up some flint. 

There was still a pile of wood left at the back of the house. He started a fire with it, a wave of heat flashing over his face as it crackled to life. 

“...What are you doing, boy?” 

He turned to see his father standing behind him, disheveled and tired: his hand against the doorframe for support. He looked concerned. It was odd. He’d never seen that kind of expression on his father’s face before.

Link didn’t break eye contact. What had broken in him when he first touched the Master Sword had somehow snapped back into place, and his mind was empty and calm- just as it was when he was enticed back into the Lost Woods.

With a devilish grin, he picked up his sword’s scabbard, held it over the fire, and just let go.


	5. Breaking Silence

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. Wow, this chapter starts in one place and ends somewhere completely different, but Purah was fun to write.  
> 

It didn’t take long for the fire to die out. The Master Sword devoured the flames- hungry, as if it had been eager to shed its skin.

Link sat cross legged with the sword in his lap. It still radiated heat, but it was a pleasant feeling. He kept his eyes trained on the blade as his father paced, his boots coming in and out of view at the edge of his vision. It was audible when he ran his hands over his face, trying to come to terms with what he just saw. 

“It was you,” he said, coming to a halt. “You lied.”

“I did.”

_“Link-”_

Silence. It stretched too long, and he lifted his face. His father was sitting on the doorstep, head in his hands.

“Am I supposed to scold you?” he laughed, incredulous, and muttered, “I can’t.”

“Why?”

“I would have told you to hide,” his father looked up at him. His face was half pulled into a sardonic grin. “I didn’t want this for you.”

There was emotion in him Link had never seen. It caused his father to look away as if it disgusted him. “I didn’t want to be like him. Suffocating. How in Hylia’s name did I raise you to end up like that girl? Your mother would have me _flayed.”_

Link didn’t know if he should respond. It sounded more like he was talking to himself, or scolding himself.

“I need to go to the castle.” he breathed deep, asking, “Can you get me an audience with the king?”

The man laughed. “Boy, you could walk through the gates with that thing and he would come running to meet _you.”_

“...I’ll go then.”

“Not alone,” his father declared, standing. “I’m a bastard that gambled on his own son, but not _once_ did I bet against you. Now, get your shit together and let’s go drag His Majesty out of bed.”  
  


* * *

  


“I was surprised how many came to your defense,” Impa remarked. “And I was surprised he did not have your arms broken. Or your tongue burned.”

That made Paya’s mouth hang a bit. Again, she was aghast. None of this matched up with all the merry stories she’d been told of old Hyrule.

“Did he seem that cruel to you?” Link questioned. 

Impa shook her head. “He was never a cruel man, but he had done far worse to Sheikah who defected into the Yiga. His Majesty was quite vicious when it came to protecting his daughter, you see.”

She suddenly laughed despite that grim comment, slapping her leg. “Perhaps he feared your own father’s retaliation! Before you, he was the best swordsman in the country. Even stumbling drunk.”

Link smiled at that.

Swaying his head, he recounted the event in full.

Before heading out, his father had wrapped the sword in cloth. It was better not to risk another knight recognizing it before the king was spoken to, he said.

It made the trip up to the sanctum easy, and when Link stood before the doors to the throne room, he couldn’t walk forward. He was too nervous. He looked over at his father, and instructed him: 

“Hit me.”

_“Huh?”_

“Just do-”

His father smacked him before he could finish. 

“Better?” He asked. 

“...Yep.”

The imperial guards standing in front of them looked bewildered by the exchange, but opened the doors without question. Link unfurled his sword from its wrapping and discarded the fabric as they walked- the silk fluttering and weightless.

King Rhoam had an earlier start to his day than usual, sitting upon his throne: listening to the plights of citizens. Eight imperial guards were posted side by side next to him, and several attendants stood waiting in the darker corners of the vast room. Some looked drowsy- a little bored and unaware their morning was about to get far more interesting.

Link arrived just as the last citizens were sent out, save for one more.

There was a dark feathered Rito standing off to the side, waiting for an audience with King Rhoam as well. An intricate bow was strapped to his back, and his head snapped towards them with bird-like precision as they came to a halt next to him. Green eyes narrowed. He wasn’t looking at them, but at the sword in Link’s hand.

“My, _my,_ I didn’t hear that someone already claimed that sword,” he crowed. “You’re smaller than I thought you’d be.”

His voice was loud, echoing through the sanctum, and Link could already tell the Rito was a fire starter. He sent the bird a waspish, warning look before he glanced back up to Rhoam. Lightning struck through him; the man's full attention was on him.

His stoicism was impressive, though his shoulders were stiff as a board as he stood from his throne and walked down the stairs, hands no doubt clasped tightly behind his back. 

He looked at the Rito. “Would you be able to return later?”

“Of course, Your Majesty,” he bowed low and dramatic before prancing out the door. Once it closed behind him, the king instructed the guards to lock it in a growl.

With the sound of a wood bar sliding into place, he gave another sharp demand, _“Come here.”_

Link moved into the light, and when he was several feet from Rhoam, got on one knee- bowing his head. One hand remained on the Master Sword as he laid it out for the king to see.

“Enlighten me,” those words deliberate and measured: a barely contained fury, “how do you possess a sword you failed to pull?”

“I didn’t fail, Your Majesty. I lied.”

“And? What exactly did you _gain_ from this lie?”

He sounded chiding. Link's grip tightened around the scabbard. “Nothing, Your Majesty.”

“Do you expect me to show you mercy for coming forward?”

“No, Your Majesty.”

Silence. The man exhaled in a ragged sigh. He began to pace a circle around Link, thinking, measuring, and menacing. He remembered the way he looked down over the squires at the tourney: like a vulture. “I must admit, I am having some trouble deciding how to punish you... I'm leaning towards jailing.”

 _Bear it,_ he thought to himself. Whatever it is, bear it.

The captain of the guard suddenly piped up, “Your Majesty, I ask you to consider that he is still young.”

“Give me the same punishment you give him,” Link’s father half-demanded.

Another guard, Arlo, spoke, “I would ask the same. We were the ones to nominate him for knighthood.”

“You chose him for _nothing!”_ The king roared. “It was the Goddess’ will and this boy ran from it!”

There was the anger he expected. He spoke in a way that Link knew he was staring down at him: his voice a rumble of thunder overhead. “And I am _tired_ of children running from responsibility!”

_Bear it._

To Link’s amazement, the royal guards actually began to argue with their king.

“I’m certain he knows it was a mistake, Your Majesty,” a less familiar voice said.

“The boy’s a terror that beat up my own son, but I can vouch for his character,” the captain insisted. “He deserves a chance.”

His father dared to speak again. “Your Majesty, he has been nothing but loyal to this castle.”

"Shut your mouth for once in your life, Landon!" Rhoam yelled at him.

The warning was not heeded; an argument erupted yet again. Impiety, he shouted, sacrilege. Usefulness, they countered, service. All of it was too much for Link to follow. His head swam- his thoughts floundering, scattering like marbles. He wanted to speak, but could only stare at the floor with grit teeth and a strange kind of pain and guilt radiating beneath his lungs.

Rhoam eventually let out another sigh. He might've been pinching the bridge of his nose.

_‘What could the king do? Stamp his foot and threaten to pluck a few leaves from my branches?’_

The Deku Tree's words surfaced from memory, and understanding hit Link with all the force of a waterfall against his back. What _could_ he do?

Zelda, the Great Forest Spirit, and him- the Goddess’ chosen Champion, were delicate cases. If they were to be handled, it needed to be with more discretion than a broken arm. The king must have known that. 

(Link didn’t fear pain, but the understanding that all that drama was nothing more than a formality shed the king’s actions in a very different light than he was used to. Rhoam was, after all, a father. And he would scold him where Link’s own parent seemed incapable.)

With all that in mind, and the protests of his old friends restraining him, he delivered the only real and terrible punishment he could give the boy in front of him:

“...I see now there are many who think highly of you. It gives me hope that you will be a shining example for all of Hyrule.”

A new story would be fabricated. It wasn’t far from the truth: stating that he had failed to pull the sword only once. Later, when he was older and more worthy, he tried again with success. Link recently took several trips North while guarding caravans, and it was the perfect stitching to tie away any loose ends in the story.

The few who discovered the sword was missing two years ago were sworn to silence, along with everyone present in the sanctum that day.

It was as simple as that.

Several days later, Zelda was called to the throne room.

Link stood with King Rhoam on the sanctum’s balcony, bathed in light spilling from the windows high above when she arrived. Zelda strode to the center of that room, raising her hand to shield her face from the light. Her eyes hadn’t adjusted from the glare of the sun behind them, and she didn’t seem to recognize who was standing next to her father, so he offered a little clarification.

“I have good news, my dear,” he gestured to Link, to the sword on his back. “We have found our final Champion.”

“...What?” Their shadows loomed over her. He shifted, sunlight bouncing off the hilt of his sword as he did so. It cast a smear of violet across her face, and recognition flooded over her features all at once.

Her control was as admirable as her father's; Link could barely see the disbelief set in, followed by anger, and then fear- all a tide of emotions hardly distinguishable from one another in their subtlety. 

“Oh, that’s… wonderful,” a hollow tone. Their eyes met. It could have been a trick of the light, but Zelda looked betrayed.

Something foul twisted in Link’s gut, yet he kept his own gaze as hollow as her words, and looked away.

It was the third time he’d heard Zelda’s voice, and it was the last time he ever wanted to hear it like that again. 

  


* * *

  


Grass sped by, the wind rushing in his ears. Link’s horse galloped across Hyrule’s field at breakneck speed as he lifted himself higher off the saddle, drawing back an arrow. He let it loose as Revali soared past, yanking a Bokoblin off its mount with his talons and firing three of his own arrows.

The wheels of the wagon ahead were splintering. It bounced high off the ground with every bump in the road, casting its passengers and contents into the air. Zelda was barely holding onto the railing of the wagon, her cloak whipping around her shoulders. 

Link’s arrow hit the Bokoblin that had been galloping next to her, reaching to snatch up a handful of her hair. It fell- trampled by its own horse.

That outing was supposed to be an easy trip to Carok Bridge: to the excavations at the Breach of Demise. It quickly went awry when tens of Bokoblins flooded out from a nearby forest on horseback, shooting arrows into their caravan of two carts. Both wagons separated early on, the other cart’s driver losing control of his reins, and Zelda’s remaining guardsmen were forced to follow it by the sudden wave of encroaching monsters.

Link kicked another Bokoblin off its horse and went to slash at another, but several arrows embedded themselves into it. The creature burst into mist.

“That’s eight!” Revali laughed, “We’re tied now, _Hero!”_

Everything was a competition with that damn Rito. However, Link was his father’s son, which meant he definitely wasn’t above being baited into it.

He would never admit it, but he was just as arrogant as Revali.

That’s exactly why Link snatched a spear from a Bokoblin, aimed, and proceeded to fling it through four of the monsters.

Link was now in the lead with twelve. 

He smirked at Revali. The Rito gave him a glare that could make a Goron shiver.

There was a scream. A Bokoblin had a hold of Zelda’s leg and was trying to yank her from the cart. She held on with a surprising amount of strength, but was stretched dangerously over the earth below while another monster was busy terrorizing the cart’s driver, causing it to weave erratically. 

Their competition was quickly forgotten. 

“Driver!” Revali called, and Link split off to help Zelda.

He caught up to her by the time Carok bridge came into sight. A swipe of his sword dispatched her attacker easily, but she was left dangling off the back of the cart- its speed the only thing keeping her from tumbling into the dirt. 

Link held out his hand for her to take, but when Zelda saw him she bared her teeth and made a strange noise. For a moment, he didn’t believe his ears.

Did she just _growl_ at him?!

He was two seconds from growling back before one of the wheels completely ripped off, startling his horse. Revali snatched the driver from his seat, pulling him to safety. As he did so, the Rito fired arrows at the leather binding the wagon’s horses, and they darted out of the way just as the whole thing began to skid out of control. 

Link was forced to leap off of his horse when it spun, grabbing Zelda’s waist with both his arms. He took the brunt of the fall as they rolled across the bridge, and the cart soared- wood splintering as it slammed into the structure. It partially collapsed from the weight of the object, and the wagon fell through: Zelda’s supplies cast into the water below.

They only stopped rolling after smacking into one of the bridge’s pillars. Link sat up a bit, ignoring the flare of pain across his back from where he fell on his sword, and caught sight of the remaining Bokoblins skidding to a halt at the beginning of the bridge. They were unable to cross the new gap. They flailed their arms, throwing bits of debris in protest.

He laid back down, head thumping against the wood planks, and Zelda rolled off of him onto her knees. Revali landed next to them with a gust of wind, unceremoniously dumping the poor driver just a few feet over. The Rito slouched, exhausted.

All four of them sat there heaving, trying to catch their breath. 

“That,” Revali huffed, “could have gone better.”

“Purah’s going to be so angry,” Zelda whimpered in reference to the lost supplies.

“With all due respect, Your Highness, Purah can kiss my feathered-”

Link lazily threw a pebble at him, and the Rito shut his mouth, grumbling something else offensive.

Luckily, the excavation camp was just on the other side of the bridge. A crowd of researchers and Sheikah had gathered, marveling at the wanton destruction that just took place. They all scurried over to the princess, looking over her scrapes and bruises. She swatted them away, insisting she was perfectly fine.

She’d glanced at Link for a moment, looking a little regretful, and slinked off.

Several researchers crowded him as well, asking a barrage of questions and trying to poke the Master Sword. Like Zelda, he swatted them away. They grumbled and went back to their work. A group went off to the river to try and recover what horses or cargo they could.

Revali had flown off somewhere. Maybe to brag or brood, he wasn’t sure which. Link didn’t know why that Rito was still tagging along, and quite frankly, after dealing with his snide comments for over a month, he hoped they didn’t cross paths again.

He was helpful though. Link could admit that... A bit. 

“You’re here for Purah?” A Hylian asked, squatting over a dig site. He pointed across the camp. “She’s in that cave over there.”

There was a sheet of thick fabric hanging over the cavern, and when Link slipped past, it was too dark to see anything. Something moved in the shadows. A pair of spectacles caught light, staring at him.

It was creepy. He turned to leave.

 _“Hey!”_ a woman shouted. “Get back here!”

A lantern was lit. Link never thought he’d see a workspace messier than Zelda’s, but there he stood: up to his knees in books and stacks of paper.

The woman was Sheikah. She messed with her glasses a little, stumbling over the littering of books to approach him. The researcher loomed over Link. She was tall, just like the other Sheikah woman he encountered nearly six weeks ago. 

After assessing him, she crossed her grease-covered arms and said, “ _...Alright,_ good enough. I’ll listen. What do you want?”

He had no idea what test he just passed, but he wasn’t about to ask. 

“You’re Purah?”

“Is that even a question?” she gestured to her face. “Who else is this stunning?”

She smelled like rotten vegetables.

“The king said you needed my help.”

 _“Hmmm? Oooh!”_ She leaned close, spying his sword. Purah went to snatch it. Link smacked her wrist. 

_“Touchy,”_ she griped, walking past him. “Fine, come with me.”

Further into the breach, excavations were a flurry of activity. There must have been hundreds of researchers. Link had to dodge several wagons as they rolled past, and workers with armfuls of supplies too tall to see where they were stumbling off to. Several Sheikah hung from the cliffside with wire, chipping away at its surface with pickaxes. It was lacking in any sense- any order.

He liked it.

“You,” Purah said as she twirled a pen between her fingers and checkmarked several things off her clipboard, “are an overglorified exterminator.” She suddenly stopped, leaning in far too close for comfort. Link scrunched his nose. “Isn’t that right?”

When the woman slipped away and continued through the crowd, she yelled over her shoulder. “No more simple guard duty for you, you’re His Majesty’s new favorite monster killing machine!”

They came to a halt at another cavern borne into the cliffside, sectioned off by a large stone door. Purah held up an item identical to the one Zelda wore, and pressed it against the stone. Sections of the door swiveled, light pulsing, and it opened.

“Congratulations on the promotion,” she purred, “Check it out for me, will ya?”

When Link walked in, it was another dark room. Blue flames suddenly came to life when the door shut tight behind him, and the flash of light revealed a snap shot of thirty Lizalfos in the air, leaping at him. Tails swiped, limbs severed, and fanged jaws snapped inches from his face. When Purah finally opened the door less than two minutes later, Link was holding the last one upside down by its tail, and the lizard smacked his face with its tongue.

“Well, aren’t you fast? Right, onto the next room!”

They went further into the odd structure, and each time, Purah locked him in with the monsters.

It took nearly an hour to clear them all out. When he met her next to a strange pedestal, she was scribbling on her clipboard again. “Goddess, I wish you showed up like three years earlier. You make everything so much easier.”

He must have given her a vicious look because she raised her eyebrows, adjusting her glasses a little. “Ooh, sensitive about that, huh?”

She twirled her clipboard around, showing him what was on it. It was a diagram of a building, and she’d crossed out all the places they’d been inside it. 

“Look at that, he’s all squeaky clean now. Come on, I think they've dug up enough of it by now.”

She placed her small device into the pedestal. Something blue dropped onto it before she ushered Link out: back to the excavation site. Purah flung her clipboard somewhere into the crowd and held an object to her mouth as they marched away from the doors, waving around her free arm.

 _“Alright, my little cuckoos! It’s time!”_ her voice carried over the chaos of the dig site, amplified by whatever strange item she spoke into. _“Stand clear!”_

Purah must never have given much warning at all, because everyone immediately dropped what they were doing and scrambled away from that cliffside. She tapped her Slate. The ground quaked, and those great canyon walls fragmented like they were no more fragile than glass.

Something screeched. It sounded like a bird-cry 

Wind stronger than any he’d felt knocked several people over as a vast structure continued to rise from the ruin. Debris sprayed outwards across the breach, and Link barely managed to open his eyes against the sting of dust sweeping through. He nearly choked on those plumes when he caught sight of what it was the blotted out the noon sun above them: a colossus of slate. It wings framed the sky, propellers a blur and an engine loud enough to make his ears ring.

Link caught sight of Revali standing tall atop a precipice high in the air, wings crossed and seemingly unaffected by the powerful wind. Despite that stoic pose, he stared up at the machinery with wide eyes. An open beak. Even that Rito looked wonderstruck. 

“Amazing, isn’t it?” Purah asked above the noise. She had a wild look in her eye. “You just got to see one of Hyrule’s _greatest_ legacies unearthed.”

Vah Medoh. The final Divine Beast to be set free from its prison of stone.

Revali suddenly swooped low from his precipice. It was at the corner of his eye that Link spied Zelda running, fastening a bag across her shoulders. She leapt off of a boulder, and the Rito caught her before shooting off toward Medoh faster than his eyes could track.

“Her Highness is going to bring Vah Medoh back to the Earth,” Purah explained when she saw him staring.

“...Why her?” Link asked when the shock receded.

“They bend easiest to her will,” she tapped her head. “They’ve got a mind of their own, those things. It’s why we call them _beasts.”_

Purah walked off to prepare for its descent. Link remained where he was, unsettled.

 _‘Most people are. They think these machines are monsters,’_ the princess had said.

“It’s because they are, Zelda,” he murmured. 

  


* * *

  


As he came to find out from Purah, Revali was the one chosen to be Vah Medoh’s pilot. The second he caught wind of a giant bird set to be gifted to the Rito, he'd supposedly walked right up to the sanctum and presented _himself_ as a candidate- not dissimilar to the way Link waltzed right in with an ancient blade and tossed it at the king's feet. Quite frankly, he couldn't even begin to fathom how Revali pulled off a stunt like that without the same figurative armor.

Fast forward six weeks and he'd been tasked with clearing out the structure- until Link appeared and ruined the Rito’s fun, that is. He still remained to assist with translating some of the oldest Rito carvings in the belly of the Divine Beast- among learning more about the object he would soon be put in charge of. He was surprisingly educated beyond his talent for archery. That keen interest of his in the Divine Beast was even stranger, and it might’ve gone beyond a desire for glory.

...Really, the more he learned about Revali the less he liked him.

The excavation wouldn’t end there.

“We didn’t need to unearth it that quickly, but it was in the way of a _goldmine_ of Guardians,” Purah snipped when they sat next to a campfire. “It was easier to just move it out of the way. And it’s not like we wanted Lizalfos raining from the sky when we did, so I was like, if it’s a bird let’s just get another bird to do it, y’know?”

Link had food stuffed in his mouth, listening to her ramble about the event. Plenty of the researchers were now drunk: stumbling around bonfires and celebrating the night away for completing a major step of the project.

Some gathered around Revali. Judging by the way he was posing, he was probably bragging about something. Link didn’t mind. It took some of the attention off of him. 

Purah, however, simply wouldn’t leave him alone. 

“Does it tingle?” she’d asked. 

“What?” he stuck a kabob in his mouth.

“Your sword, does it, like, tingle when you hold it?”

“...Only when I first pulled it.”

“Hmm,” she mused, and handed him another plate of meat. “Any increase in stamina?”

“A bit less, actually.”

“Interesting,” she handed him more food. “I wonder if it stole a little vitality to bind itself to you?”

“Maybe,” he shrugged. “Anyone else who tried to pull it couldn't because it took too much energy. They passed out.”

_“Very interesting.”_

Every time he answered a question, Purah handed him more treats. It was working. She’d found his weakness within a matter of hours.

She was tapping her glasses, thoughtful, before a look of wonder passed over her. The woman opened her mouth- yet her words failed to reach his ears. Something powerful had come over Link. It felt like a wave of dread- a terror that made his breathing hitch. He looked around, sweeping his eyes across the camp, rising from their log as Purah tried to question his odd behavior. Past her messy bun, a group of researchers were tinkering with a Guardian missing its legs. A head swiveled, and a blue eye landed on someone digging through several crates.

Zelda- her blonde head unmistakable in the crowd of white haired Sheikah.

When one of the workers wound something in place, red erupted, flickering before a thread of light leapt outwards. They began to shout, desperately trying to undo whatever it was they did as its sights wandered over her back. Link scrambled over the wooden log, snatching up a pot lid. Zelda stiffened. A glance over her shoulder- confused. The laser pinged when it finished charging- a flash of blinding light- and fired before she could realize what was happening.

Heat flared when he rolled in front of her: throwing his arm out. His dingy pot lid sent that beam rocketing straight back into the machine’s eye. Sheikah scattered just before it fell over, exploding to pieces.

Zelda dropped the wrench in her hand. Metal clattered. Her back was pressed on one of the crates- a palm flat against it. The alarm was fading, but the princess continued to gape alongside the rest of the camp. A clap. Then more. An awkward applause spreading over the crowd. Link stood, a little shocked himself, and stared at the streak of charred wood along the lid’s surface. His skin was tinged pink. He'd barely avoided searing flesh.

What to do? Revali would’ve bowed, probably, but he wasn’t about to follow the Rito’s example. He settled on scratching the back of his head and turning to Zelda. A cold sweat over her skin: the vestiges of fear. But, she worked through the haze well enough to nod an affirmation that she was fine. And so, with that, a pot lid drummed against the earth, and he backed away.

She looked like she wanted to say something, but he was already walking off.

Purah smacked the researchers with another clipboard. “Irresponsible! Stupid! Stupid! Stupid!” she yelled as she hit them one by one. _“Dummies!”_

He heard Zelda trying to calm the woman down as he ducked beneath a piece of fabric into a dark tent. 

Link set his sword down, back facing the entrance of the tent, and crossed his legs on the floor. He breathed deep, trying to channel some of The Deku Tree’s composure. His thoughts were suddenly rioting against him; the day had been far too long.

What was that? A retreat, maybe.

He didn’t dislike Zelda, but he found that he no longer wanted to be within twenty feet of her, either. It hurt in a way he wasn’t used to, and being poked and prodded all day was difficult enough. It was becoming difficult to keep calm. Difficult to reign in his anger. He should just stop thinking. Speaking. Maybe it was better that way. Impa would agree.

A contradiction had taken root in him, after all, and he had no hope of unraveling it. 

Link enjoyed the battles, the danger that came with being an ‘overglorified exterminator’. It was vastly different to spending his days sitting on a castle wall, doing nothing, waiting for nothing. The bitter truth was that if the job didn't come with a million prying eyes, then he would have actually enjoyed it.

 _‘You_ are _meant for this’_ The Deku Tree told him, and that was only partially true. Link was meant to be a fighter, not a figurehead. 

There was a rustle that startled him. He twisted to see Zelda standing there, holding the door of the tent shut behind her. She wasn’t looking at him. Eyes burning holes into the dirt.

“I think I owe you some thanks,” she muttered, and he wished she wouldn't.

She stole a look at him to see his reaction, her head still bent low. He kept his face passive, and nodded. Her frown only deepened at that. Oh, he wished she wouldn't.

“...How did you know? You were there so fast.”

He shook his head with a shrug. It was the truth. He didn’t know how he knew she was in danger.

That obviously perplexed her, but she changed the subject anyway. “That sword, you... had it when we spoke that night?”

A finger waved at him- at his sword as if it was something disgusting. Instead of mulling over the thousands of implications of that, he nodded.

The less he answered, the more it seemed to bother her; she shifted uncomfortably. “My father told you to hide it from me somehow, didn’t he? Some sort of... _trick.”_

He turned back to stare at the floor. He would rather stay quiet than feed into one more lie.

A hush passed between them. Just what was that conversation even about? He couldn’t understand why she remained in that tent. He didn’t know what it was that she was reaching for; digging for.

That’s all she did, wasn’t it?

Dig up parts and try to piece them together.

_Goddess,_ he wished she wouldn't. 

She did anyway.

“You know, I thought you were so kind to me, that night,” Zelda admitted, though it sounded more like an accusation than a confession. “You listened to me ramble and complain. But now, I’m terrified that you were laughing at me the entire time... Two times, it took you to draw that sword, and here I am, ten years of my life wasted.”

In reality, it took only one attempt. It was worse than she knew.

The noise that came out of her made him think she was scowling at him.

“You won’t even look at me. But you still see when I’m in danger.” She swallowed and breathed something that was a mix of an angry huff and a weary sigh. Zelda was impatient, but probably only with herself. “The point is that when I look at you, I still see two things at once.”

He stayed quiet. What was he supposed to tell her? That he admired and pitied her at the same time? It would only confuse her more.

When he was brave enough, he looked at her a final time. There was no scowl. No resentment. That didn't seem right to him.

“I like to think, eventually, you will be ready to tell me which version of you is real, and that when the time comes, I might be ready to hear it.”

With that, she turned to leave, fingers ghosting across the fabric of the tent. “Goodnight, Link.”

“...Goodnight, princess.”

The words hadn't asked for permission to come out of his mouth.

The noise she made told him she might’ve been smiling, and vanished out of sight. And, he might've trusted his judgement better that time.

Unsurprisingly, he couldn’t sleep that night. Link was too mystified by that one-sided conversation to show all his unanswerable questions to the door. Something pinching beneath his lungs. Anger- he was also a little angry at her for reasons he didn’t fully understand. For not being angry herself, maybe. He rolled over and curled his fingers into a fist, lightly hitting the Master Sword.

 _Damn this thing,_ he thought.

Ultimately, Link wasn’t good at understanding the emotions of other people. It was simple for him, however, to recognize the kind of ridiculous emotions budding in his chest; and he was smart enough to fear it.

He shouldn’t care about her at all. He shouldn’t. And yet, he did. Sympathy would take him, and guilt him.

_‘Irresponsible! Stupid! Stupid! Stupid!’_

He wished Purah would smack some sense into him with that clipboard, too.

When he finally closed his eyes that night, time left him behind.

Ten months flitted by. Ten months of standing glued to Rhoam's right. Ten months of sprinting off to every corner of Hyrule, handling any haphazard insurrections monsters attempted against forts or towns. Ten months of churches and Sheikah wardens and catching glimpses of green and gold in the night and cursing himself each time almost followed.

At the end of it all, the Champions’ identities were revealed to the public. Their ceremonial garb was given to them, a speech was made, and the roar of the crowds below was so loud Link thought the sound must have echoed for miles and miles and miles- maybe even disquieting The Deku Tree’s forest.

He wondered if it roused the old tree, and he wondered what kind of face he would have made if he saw Link then, standing at the apex of all of Hyrule.

A picture was taken to commemorate the event, and that was it.

“I must admit my guilt in you being enlisted as the princess’ personal guard after that ceremony,” Impa confessed a century later. “The question of a personal guard had come up in the sanctum, and I mentioned the incident in the ravine. The king was quite smitten with the idea of you guarding his daughter after hearing that.” Her shoulders sagged a bit. “And, he became even more fearful for her at the same time.”

The king would not endorse Zelda’s research no matter what she said to him. It didn’t stop her in the long term, of course, but it made things all that more complicated for everyone involved. They would argue atop the ramparts for days as Link tried to focus more on the stone beneath his feet than their rising voices. King Rhoam was still furious that she had snuck off to the Breach of Demise, and his daughter furious he had made him of all people her guard. It was when she stood outside her room, watching with distress as guards locked away all of her books- her research into weighty trunks, that the princess' hand was forced.

Rhoam would not allow her to continue on. He would not allow her to stray from her mother's shadow.

"Return with success, and I will endorse your research," he offered a simple deal. Simple in terms, but not execution.

Zelda had no choice but to depart on another pilgrimage, and Link would be there when she departed from that castle, following exactly three paces behind.

  
  



	6. 99 Problems and a Bird is All but One

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. For once, I'm very satisfied where this chapter ends lol  
> 2\. We're on to Gerudo Town after this. There will be chaos.  
> 3\. This chapter was extremely fun to write and you will know the exact reason when you see it lolol

It was some time after calming Vah Medoh that Link found himself sitting at Teba’s dinner table, and a small Rito staring up at him with a hint of wonder.

Saki insisted a dinner was necessary to thank him for his help in appeasing the Divine Beast. Link, predictable as ever, didn’t refuse a free meal.

He was instructing Tulin how to shoot three arrows from a bow when the Rito’s father cocked his head. A squint.

“I thought I'd been seeing things when I saw you use that technique in the flight range... How do you know the old Champion Revali's technique?”

Ah, an interrogation in the guise of dinner. Teba's curiosity was becoming quite the source of entertainment.

“I saw him do it often,” Link said perhaps a little too bluntly, the bow string a blur as he plucked it for effect.

“Again with those jokes." Teba scoffed. "Fine, you can keep your secrets.”

He played along with rolling eyes and a smirk until a gasp sounded.

“Well, it must have been passed down through his family!” Saki theorized. Link would have snatched up food from the plates she set down if it weren't for her next words. “They say Master Revali and Hylia’s Champion were close, after all. He could have shared it with him.”

They all turned to look at him. He barely managed to stifle a wince before swallowing and biting out, “...That’s right. They were... great friends.”

Saki grinned triumphantly at her husband. He responded with a good-natured scoff, and Link continued Tulin’s lesson with a mouthful of vegetable curry.

At that time, he and Revali had settled each other’s differences. Loosely, of course, but there was a mutual respect between them, wasn't there? A familiarity that came with knowing someone for a century too long. So, perhaps he would go as far as to say they did have an unusual kind of friendship. But that really wasn't the case before considering that it was in the same dining area Link now sat in that he had, in fact, tackled the Rito.

  


* * *

  


“Take this,” Balder commanded, shoving a journal in his chest. “Study up.”

Link took it, and opened to a random page.

_‘Hot footed frogs are distracting. Kept the charge in one place for three whole hours.’ - Terry_

_‘She can be lured back by saying you’ve got books already in her room.’ - Jake_

_‘Lure back with books- that only worked twice before she caught on, Jake. Thanks for the shit tip. Couldn’t find her for the rest of my shift.’ - Clide_

_‘If you lose her and can’t find her make an announcement there’s fruitcake available in the kitchen, she’ll show. Works pretty often for me.’ - Balder_

_‘Do not and I repeat DO NOT snitch to His Majesty about the princess feeding cuckoos grain laced with Mighty Thistle. He was screaming like a Bokoblin when he saw all the broken windows. Thought he was about to start smacking me like one, too. I am absolutely stunned you clowns let her feed those things.’ - Captain Farland_

“This is...”

“Our greatest work? Yeah, I know.” He was completely serious.

Link flipped through. The book was nearly full. 

“We figured you’d be needing this more than we do, so consider it a parting gift, Kiddo.” Terry ruffled Link’s hair and they ushered him out of the soldier’s dwellings.

Despite how small that gesture was, it never failed to send a wave of relief through him. It was good to know they didn’t see or treat him any differently, and while they did make him promise to keep in touch with letters, it was still bittersweet to be leaving them behind for what could be years.

When Link said goodbye to his father, the man also ruffled his hair. His hand stayed there as he stared at his son, contemplating. He was tall enough now that they were nearly eye to eye. His father seemed to notice that with a frown: contemplative and mystified at the same time.

“Your mother would be proud,” he managed to say briefly. Then he gripped Link’s shoulders: turning and pushing him away. “Now go catch up with that _‘horse’_ of yours!”

Somehow, the man predicted that’s what Link would have to do. When he reached the castle gates to meet up with her, the princess was nowhere in sight: her horse gone, and a handmaiden shrugging with equal confusion.

“I, uh, think we saw her gallop off a while ago,” one of the guards shouted down at him when they spotted him standing there, dumbly looking around.

“Wait, that was her?” a more distant voice echoed from atop the gate. 

“Clide, who _else_ do you think has a white horse around here?”

With a loud groan, Link snatched out the journal Balder gave him, flipped to an empty page, and added a tally. 

It had begun.

Luckily, he knew their schedule. Rito village was the first visit. With Vah Medoh being the most recent excavation, it still needed plenty of maintenance to ensure everything was working, and Zelda was invited by Purah to attend several of the inspections.

When he caught sight of a shrine standing atop a large cliff, he quickly darted away from the path and galloped up to it.

Sure enough, she was there pacing around the thing. Zelda was a little too predictable when it came to how easily distracted she was by anything Sheikah, and when she saw him, she was clearly angry she’d been found so easily.

There was a bit of stomping around and raving- arms flailing. The red of her face made him think it must have been identical to the way King Rhoam had thrown a tantrum over a hallway of shattered windows and panicked cuckoos. His blatant indifference only served to incite even more anger from her, but the fight would leave her eventually, of course, and his presence accepted. Days passed, camps were made, and soon Rito Village was in sight.

By the time they arrived, a large group of Sheikah had already been camping for several weeks near the stables just outside town. Most were waddling around, bundled up in warm clothing. He could see several Rito standing at the outskirts of their village, eyeing the group a little suspiciously.

Those researchers had to have been making a racket since they moved in. They weren’t exactly known for their safety regulations or noise control- something that became apparent when a garrison was turned to rubble only four months ago.

He followed Zelda as they navigated the camp. Like Vah Medoh’s excavation site, it was busy despite only half the amount of researchers being present as before, and it was when they walked past a tent full of holes that a hand shot out, dragging the princess into it. Link’s heart nearly leapt out of his chest.

Purah was holding the princess in a crushing hug when he barged into the tent.

“Jumpy much?” the woman snickered at him, releasing Zelda from her grasp. She coughed. “You guys are late.”

“Sorry, I got a little sidetracked,” the princess apologized.

“You saw that shrine on the way here, didn’t ya?”

“... _No,”_ Zelda lied.

Behind her, Link nodded twice.

“Yeah, thought so,” Purah said, lifting her chin at him and flicking Zelda’s forehead.

She led them out of the camp, toward the vast expanse surrounding Rito village. She pointed up, past the peak of Rito Village. “It was down for a bit, but we got the thing flying again just before you showed.”

Vah Medoh was circling the village, but the altitude was lower than usual- the thing puttering and puffing some sort of smoke.

“The engines keep stalling when he takes it too high.”

Zelda put her hands on her hips. “Are we going up there?”

“Uh huh,” Purah confirmed. “I’m gonna call him down and kick him out for a bit.”

As Link went to follow them, she waved him off. “I pinky promise there won’t be any more lasers, so just hang here, ok? She’ll be safe with me.”

Zelda didn’t protest. In fact, the sudden glint in her eye told him the idea was positively exciting. Less willing to speak than he was to refuse, he watched them amble off, Purah grumbling something about _‘space’._ Several Rito gave the researchers a lift up to the Divine Beast, and Link left their things at the tents where he and Zelda would be staying before wandering off to explore Rito Village.

Despite being small, the town was lively. He stood by while a rainbow of young Rito chicks ran laps up and down the stairs, laughing. There was singing somewhere, and the smell of soup lingered potent in the chilly air.

Looking back, the place didn’t change even after the passing of a century- and, back then, all he could do was wonder how something so quaint could produce someone as brash and showy as Revali.

A gust of wind erupted from below when said bird flew into sight, descending onto the landing. A pair of eyes locked onto him, and he suddenly felt like a target. Link could only stare dumbly, marveling and mourning the timing both at once.

“Impressive, I know,” he stroked his own ego when the wind died. “Very few can achieve a mastery of the sky.”

That was about as far as Link bothered to listen. Twenty minutes since he'd arrived and that Rito was already showing up to accost him? Was he that bored after being kicked out of his own machine? Not that Link wasn't bored himself.

Revali hopped down from his ledge, launching into a monologue as he paced circles around him. His eyes would follow him, but his thoughts were focused on the bow on his back- the fabric hanging off of it, and the carvings of wood. It appeared sturdy yet light at the same time, and he almost reached out to snatch it off of his back out of curiosity. A hand raised.

Before he could do that, however, Revali finished.

“Unless… you think you can prove me wrong? Maybe we should just settle this one on one?” 

Link cued back into the conversation almost immediately.

“But where..? Oh, I know! How about up there?!”

Past the fan of wingtips, he could see what Revali was gesturing to: Vah Medoh.

If he turned back to Link just a second quicker, he would have caught an eye roll. A few more jabs were made, and the archer soon took off after making that empty challenge, leaving behind a windstorm and drifting feathers. 

Link crossed his arms and huffed. He almost wished he’d been serious about that fight. It didn't matter. He was sure that bird had met his quota, and would leave him in peace for at least another twenty-four hours.

But fate, as usual, was making an admirable effort to ruin his day.

Revali stood planted right next to him an hour later. Rito Village’s current chief sat before them. He had a large beak- one that reminded Link of a pelican he once saw near Lurelin’s seaside. He chose to focus on it instead of the tapping claws and put out grumbling in his left ear.

“Could I trouble you with a favor?” he inquired. “I understand you are currently waiting for maintenance on our Divine Beast to be complete... In your spare time, I would appreciate it if you could check on a few scouts for me.”

“Of course,” Revali put a wing on his hip, sighing. “The twins went missing exploring again, didn’t they?”

“Only one, actually, Yula returned recently, injured from a surprise ambush of Icy Lizalfos. He says his brother is still up in the mountains somewhere... I sent up a few of our guards last night to search for him, but they have yet to come back, either.”

Revali looked a little more interested now. “Why didn’t you call me when this started?”

“You were busy with your duties as a Champion, were you not?”

He scoffed. “I’ll decide what I prioritize. Just point me to where they went.”

“Thank you. Master Link, would you be willing to join him?”

“I am perfectly capable of doing this on my _own,”_ Revali interjected.

“With all due respect,” the chief insisted, “I do not know what awaits you in the Tundra. Please, it would comfort me greatly if both of you would watch each other’s backs and bring back our men.”

They gave each other the side eye, but agreed nonetheless.

Link trudged after the Rito, snow crunching beneath his boots. Revali occasionally glanced back at him, glaring. He ignored it.

His fellow Champion refused to carry him, and so the two were forced to navigate the slopes of the Tabantha Region’s snow capped mountains on foot. Every now and then, Revali would fly up to take a look around. It was baffling- seeing him always come back down, that is. He'd wholeheartedly expected the Rito to ditch him the second his chief was out of sight, and yet there he was: returning with a report each time. It wasn't until Revali returned from a much longer scouting venture that he understood why.

“Something’s not right.” A wingtip at his beak. Troubled. He turned to Link. “I don’t see how an entire group of Rito can _vanish_ like this. It’s nearly impossible for my kind to be caught in an ambush.”

It was true. In theory, they could just fly off if they got overwhelmed and finish off their attackers from the sky. Even bandits rarely targeted the Rito for that exact reason.

Link put his hands on his hips. He stared up at the endless blue expanse, breath fogging. It was empty: not a cloud in sight. When he glanced back down, he suggested, “We need to look for tracks.”

Revali’s head snapped towards him. “My! That may be the first time _I’ve_ heard you speak. I was starting to get worried you didn’t like me.” He glowered. The Rito dropped his antics. “Very _well,_ you have a point. But there was a snowstorm in these mountains the night before you arrived. We may not be able to find anything.”

Still, it was worth a try.

The two of them fanned out, Revali flying across the hills at a lower angle than before. Link slipped through walls of ice, slid down steep hills, and trekked across a small valley. Even something as small as a set of Lizalfos tracks or feathers would be a lead, yet it was nothing but an endless, untouched swath of white. Time passed, hours ticking away. The sun began to set.

 _“There!”_ Revali's voice sounded from farther off- and, before Link could react, he barreled into the mountainside a few feet from him.

A shower of white powder. Frigid wind. He recoiled from it, swatting snow off his face until Revali brandished an arrow. It was broken, nearly snapped in half, and he pointed to the green fletching that was still intact.

“This is Yala’s arrow. One of the twins.”

Link walked over to him as they both looked to where the arrow hand been pointed. An icy cavern below, leading deep into the Earth. Icicles lined the roof of the cave like a row of teeth- an eerie blue pulsing somewhere deep within. Revali stared at those walls as if they were something foul. Claustrophobia: a trait he began to realize was shared by both Rito and Zora. They exchanged a wary look.

“...Perhaps they took shelter from the storm here?” the Rito hoped.

With hesitation, they traipsed onward. Revali’s eyes darted from one dark corner to the other. Though their descent had no interruptions, Link occasionally stopped to glance behind them. He was betting on a Lizalfos ambush at any second.

It never came.

His foot hit something. Arrows. They were a trail throughout the cavern; a haphazard mess leading all across the floor to the ceiling. By the array of colors, very few belonged to Yala. Although, their chaotic pattern made it impossible to tell what the archers were aiming at.

A spear there. Stuck in a pillar of ice. He approached, reaching out to grab it, only to realize it wasn’t a pillar, but a Rito frozen with his weapon in hand. His wings were spread out as if he’d been stumbling backwards- startled and fearful. Link went to yell for Revali, but saw him standing only a short ways off. He was busy staring at a collection of five other iced Rito.

Sound echoed. Dripping water and coins tossing through the air. He drew his sword and ducked behind one of the frozen Rito, Revali doing the same with three arrows already in place. The noise grew closer until something rounded a corner of the cave. It slowed to a stop, glancing around suspiciously from its position in the air.

A Wizzrobe. 

Great. One misstep and they’d both be a hunk of ice.

Revali was quick as lightning, but it wasn’t enough. The monster flailed when he jumped out and vanished before his arrows could reach it.

Link watched the rings of light as it moved, trying to gauge where it would reappear. His Rito partner knocked back several more arrows, waiting. Both of their focus was cut off when it flashed into existence alongside a row of spears of ice. It shot at them before either could attack. Link tumbled out of the way, but had to skid to a halt before he slammed into one of the frozen Rito. 

“Hit them and they’ll shatter!” Revali shouted. 

Behind him, there was laughter. He twisted, coming face to face with the Wizzrobe. 

No, that wasn’t right. It was still dancing across the cave.

Link swung his sword at the creature, but predictably, it disappeared.

“There’s two,” he warned.

Revali's eloquent response was a curse.

One of his arrows barely nicked the original monster, piercing through half its torso. It screamed- the noise grating- and waved its wand around. The second monster reappeared opposite of it and did the same.

The entire roof of the cavern quickly became blanketed in an icy mist. Blades of ice rained on them like a hailstorm, and Link found himself scrambling to avoid it all. Revali wasn’t as fast on foot. He resorted to firing arrows at a dizzying speed, shattering any ice that would have hit him.

When the hail let up, Revali shot at one- baiting it into disappearing.

“Get the other one! I’ll cover you!” he ordered.

They had seconds before the first would reappear and attack. It was best to handle them one at a time, if they could, wasn't it? With an inward shrug, Link ran towards the Wizzrobe and pivoted when it launched a ball of ice at him. It narrowly missed him, turning to fragments somewhere behind him. It conjured up another projectile, readying it. A direct approach wouldn’t work. He glanced around. A pillar. Then to the roof: low- keeping those monsters closer to the ground than normal. He could reach that height.

Pretending to retreat, Link sprinted toward that column. His opponent chased him, only for its laughter to be cut off with a quack of shock when it watched him kick off of the pillar into a flip. The action, however, stupidly put him in the direct line of another shot of ice. Maybe he didn't think as far ahead as he should have.

It clipped him at the shoulder. Frost over bare skin- limbs going stiff and his breath catching. Just as quickly, however, heat flared. There was a flame arrow tearing into his arm- the fletching as dark as Revali's feathers, and while it may have lit him on fire and pierced skin, it kept him mobile and conscious.

The monster’s shock was enough to distract it. Effortlessly, Link cut it in half as he soared by. 

He slammed into the ice, rolling into the cavern wall. With the ringing of small bells, the final Wizzrobe appeared above him hoping to take advantage of his fall. His head jerked up as it swung its wand back, but before it could bring it down, another flame arrow shot through it. Something like glitter fluttered, catching in Link's hair. He patted it away- absently staring at the empty space that monster occupied. Once it was nothing but wisps of smoke, he cradled his burnt arm and looked at Revali with a tinge of disbelief.

“You used me as bait?”

 _“What?”_ he defended as he waved a collection of six arrows at him, “It worked, didn’t it? I only had two arrows to spare, and those things would have just disappeared if they were paying attention to me.”

“Oh." A pause. "...That was pretty smart.”

The Rito was flabbergasted at that compliment, but recovered quickly: tilting his head back into a pose. “Well, what _else_ would you expect from me?”

Yes, what else would anyone expect?

Thankfully, the battle was surprisingly easy, and all the missing Rito were accounted for in that cave. The rest of of Revali's arrows were used, and once he made his frazzled companions drink elixirs to combat their frostbite, they all went stumbling out of that cavern: bruised and burnt save for one prideful bird. 

Nightfall descended by the time they reached Rito Village. A tower of torchlight flickering in the black, and the Sheikah camp a river of blue at its base. They split off at the town’s bridge in relative silence. Revali nodded at him- the barest of acknowledgment- before he wandered off to make sure the injured men received proper treatment.

When Link showed up at camp, Zelda sat huddled with several Sheikah, the group utterly silent. They were a myriad of uneasy faces transfixed by a pot of soup- some sort of odd colored smoke wafting out of it. Whatever it was, it looked… _foul._

Maybe it was best for him to avoid that night’s dinner.

Upon hearing him approach, all heads swiveled towards him. Their eyes flicked from the frostbite on his left hand, to the hideous burns on his right, and then to the bloody bruise on his forehead where he fell.

Purah’s head popped up from behind one of the researchers, the woman yapping: “Holy _mackerel!_ Who beat you up?!”

It suddenly occurred to him that, although a little indirectly, Revali was the one who beat him up. The idea made him bristle like a cactus. Link didn’t grace that with a comment, and shuffled off to find a tent to pass out in, trying to get the scent of whatever that dubious concoction was out of his nose.

It was ten minutes later that he heard a noise. He looked up from a messy trail of gauze and bandages to see a hand slip rapidly out of his tent’s door. Red there, swirling vibrant in the bottle left behind. Intrigued, he took it and looked over the glass. The script along its surface indicated who it belonged to.

Zelda.

He drank it all, hoping it would wash away the pain of his wounds along with the sudden rush of butterflies in his stomach.

  


* * *

  


“What exactly is going on here?”

Impa stood, arms crossed as she tapped a foot at her sister. Purah lounged across a boulder, soaking up the heat it absorbed from the sun overhead.

“What do you mean?” Purah knew exactly what she meant.

The woman swung her arm out, gesturing to Link. 

He stood in the forest near the stables, surrounded by trees that had become completely encased in ice. He waved his new toy again and a large chunk of ice slammed into a signpost. It splintered completely.

“Oh, right,” Purah chuckled a little darkly. “He picked up a wand from a Wizzrobe yesterday. Get this: turns out he can use that thing. Neat, huh?”

Impa put her hands on her hips and scowled like an old man.

“What, am I the babysitter of the princess’ babysitter now?”

“Of _course_ not,” her voice dripped with sarcasm, “but maybe you can tell me why the princess _he_ is supposed to be babysitting is nowhere in sight?”

“Maybe you can tell me why you’re asking me and not him.” With that, Purah laid back down on her rock.

It took three seconds for Impa to stomp over to Link. He put the wand behind his back just as the woman swiped her hand to take it away from him, and the action only made her scowl deepen.

“Explain.”

Link very quickly pointed to the sky. Revali and Zelda were off in the distance, flying in circles as she took pictures of the Divine Beast with her Slate.

“Oh,” Impa immediately calmed down, but her anger towards him didn’t fade. “And what are you doing destroying this forest?”

Purah lifted her head up just once to jeer, “Throwing a temper tantrum! He’s _jealous!”_

Link shot her the meanest glare he could muster before Impa looked back at him, confused. An eyebrow raised, but his expression was empty enough that she must have ignored her sister- assuming that she was just making things up again.

He had to shield his eyes from the sun that glared behind the woman looming over him. By the time Impa arrived, it was late in the afternoon. Zelda had spent the entirety of the day instructing Revali and going on numerous trips back and forth from the Divine Beast- mostly for prayer.

Like the name suggested, a large portion of the chantry came to believe the Divine Beasts could only have been built by Hylia’s hand, and insisted that they not only act as guardians to their respective regions, but as a place where Zelda should go to meditate.

He doubted the princess believed that, but she wasn’t about to ignore the freedom it offered. Neither had Link, much to her displeasure.

But, regardless- yes, she spent a lot of time with that Rito; and maybe he was jealous of how much fun she was having, but he wasn’t petty enough to throw a temper tantrum over something like that. Absolutely not. He was just bored, and decided to take his new wand for a spin.

“Shouldn’t you be up there running tests? Or _you_ killing monsters? Was that not the job given to you while Her Highness is busy instructing her Champions?”

Purah yawned, “Oh, calm down. He's on break. And _we_ finished everything we could that wouldn’t be _loud._ Tomorrow, we’ll run our last test and head off to fix up Rudania. Daruk has been ramming that thing into every mountain he sees, I swear. You think it’d be easy to pilot a giant lizard on a volcano, but _nope.”_

Impa continued to stare at her. She’d gone off on a tangent again. Purah groaned and sat up. “We’re trying to be _respectful!_ They’re celebrating some sort of festival today, so we figured we’d refrain from exploding things until tomorrow at, like... five AM?”

Like Impa, she swung her arm out to the village. Flags had been put up all along the stairways. They looked as colorful as the line of children he saw yesterday, and the sound of windchimes echoed over the expanse below. He could hear trumpets, too, blaring to signal the start of a race. Rito shot off their landings, arrows flying into targets as they did so.

If there was anything he expected to see Revali participating in, it was that. But after soaring into the sky with the princess he was nowhere to be seen. Even though escorting Zelda back and forth from the Divine Beast was something any guard could do, Revali insisted it be him.

Purah shrugged. “Dunno what it’s about, but it put our bird into a bad mood.”

The younger Sheikah woman rubbed her temples. “Are you telling me your idea of being respectful is to run around and _destroy_ their lumber?”

“ _I_ am laying on a rock,” Purah mercilessly fed him to the wolves. “Are _you_ telling me to argue with the angry teenager who’s got a snowman wand?”

“You’re the director of this camp!”

“And we’re not _in_ the camp!”

Their bickering was going in circles.

Impa stamped her foot. It was childish; she was nothing like the intimidating guard he’d met all those long months ago. “I am here so I can report back to His Majesty! Do you want me to tell him you’re destroying property? Do you think he won’t cut half your funding? He already tried after you destroyed _Kolomo!”_

Her sister leaned back and groaned even louder. “ _Ugh!_ Fine! Linky, put that thing away!”

He did as she commanded.

“Thank you. Now, I’m going to go speak with the chief.” Impa turned to leave, but made sure to jab a finger at Link. _“Behave yourself!”_

They watched her stalk off. Once she was out of sight, Purah took out her clipboard and grinned like a monkey. “Wanna see if we can freeze the Master Sword?”

“Yep.”

The Rito weren’t as protective of their customs as the Zora, which was something Link discovered once a few of them flew down to the camp. Two were a pair of gray birds: Yala and Yula. The first wore a sash of green, and the other yellow. Their beaks were a little familiar as well- reminiscent of a certain chief’s.

“We’re having a feast tonight,” Yula explained. “The chief wants to invite everyone as thanks for your help.”

None of the Sheikah refused. Judging by that disgusting pot of soup Link spied last night, they were probably ecstatic at the idea of eating something other than garbage.

Before they left, Yala implored, “We’d appreciate it if you could convince Master Revali to join us. He’s always hiding away somewhere this time of year and won’t speak to us.”

“What’s got his britches in a bunch?” Purah inquired, scribbling in a notebook.

The Rito glanced at each other.

“We’re not sure,” was their lie. “But it’s best if he’s not alone.”

Zelda and Revali arrived shortly after. They walked against the flow of Sheikah skipping into town, and she glanced around in wonder.

“What’s all this?” she laughed. “Where’s everyone going?”

“To feast!” Purah shouted, and several of the men and women around her cheered. Then, monotone, she stated: “We’re all invited.”

“That’s awfully nice of them.”

Revali sighed. “Right, enjoy your meal, Your Highness.”

He turned to leave, but a wall of dark clothing was waiting for him. The Rito jumped a little when he saw Impa so close, wings rising defensively. The woman stared. Arms crossed tight as rope and face shrouded by her odd hat. Despite being a Hylian, she was a couple inches taller than even Revali. Her lip curled. Some sort of squeak wormed its way out of him. Oh, he was scared of her, was he? A derisive grin threatened to quirk onto Link's face.

“We have _all_ been invited,” she crooned. “The chief wishes to thank you for rescuing his children.”

“Knowing they are safe is all the reward I need.” A blatant excuse. He side stepped her, moving his wings in a placating manner. “And truthfully, I’m not very hungry.”

Her hand shot out, grabbing his scarf. Revali choked.

“You are a Champion now, Master Revali. Please _conduct_ yourself like one.”

Purah sipped a cup of tea loudly in the silence. Even the Sheikah running off to eat had stopped, eyes wide as saucers. Zelda had a hand over her mouth. At a glance, she looked appalled. But when Link spied her shoulders trembling, he realized she was trying _desperately_ not to laugh.

Impa made history that day, because Revali withered and managed to choke: _“Of course. My apologies.”_

Every torch in Rito Village was lit that night. They fluttered in the night breeze, chasing away some of the cold. With every flight of stairs, Link had to duck beneath fabric wrapped around archways. It was thin and intricately sewn. The colors were as bright as one would expect from the Rito, soft as down feathers and nearly weightless. A choir of young girls were singing again; a recital that many attended at the landing.

Climbing the odd structure gave Link a hint as to what all of it was about. Children ran, mixing pots of soup and roasting fish over their fireplaces. Many were presenting gifts to their parents: lush necklaces made of flowers, dye for their feathers, and even hand carved bows that were held together by nothing but twine and misshapen sticks.

They were clearly gifts made by the children for their parents. It was… cute? he thought.

Revali blatantly didn’t feel the same. He looked especially grumpy, sneering at the children every time they ran past. Impa would sneer back to correct his behavior, but the effect seemed to wear off every five minutes. Link eyed him suspiciously. Whatever complex Revali had, he wasn’t sure. He wasn’t sure he wanted to know, either.

Zelda was quickly pulled away by a gaggle of children. Some were asking her opinion on a gift here or there, or inquiring about her hair. She assured them their gifts were of the highest quality, and demonstrated her favorite braids.

Purah wandered off as well- most likely to be a bad influence on any child she encountered.

Once they were near the top of the village, Impa instructed both Revali and Link to wait at a large dinner table, saying she was going to gather as many stray attendants as she could before the chief appeared to make his speech.

The woman was diligent enough to bat the back of Link’s head before leaving. He’d tried to sneak an early bite of pie. 

It was hard to resist. The table was completely set from end to end in bowls of stew, meats, and desserts. He almost drooled.

Revali and Link were left completely alone, sitting across from each other. The silence was… overbearing. He stared at his reflection in the soup, trying to ignore the Rito as he glanced at him, huffing each time. It was ridiculous; it was a repeat of the mountain excursion.

“This is _stupid.”_ He snapped. “This is a pointless holiday.”

Link didn’t say anything. He didn’t want to engage.

_“Well?!”_

“...Well what?” he muttered.

“He speaks!” Revali threw his wings up. “Hylia, it’s a miracle!”

Was he trying to start a fight? Link’s eyes twitched. Revali caught that. 

“Oh? Is there something you want to say?” He leaned forward. “Surely you agree celebrations are _pointless._ You certainly didn’t want to partake in _our_ ceremony. In fact, if I recall, you didn’t want to participate in _anything!”_

Link was biting his tongue. _Don’t engage,_ he thought. Revali’s eyes narrowed, and he slowly leaned back.

“You know, despite the impression I’ve given you, I don’t doubt your skills one bit. In fact, you have a way with the sword I’ve never seen before. You swing that thing around like it’s a club, but _somehow_ it works!”

“Does that piss you off?”

The words slipped out. Link pinched his hand under the table. _Don’t engage._

“Surprisingly, no, it doesn’t,” Revali hissed like a snake. “But you know what _really_ ruffles my feathers?”

He didn’t wait for an answer. “The fact that _nothing_ seems to ruffle yours.”

“Ok.”

The Rito looked like he was going to throw a fit. “All this glory, and what do you do? Hide in a tent, brood and pout in a corner! It was handed to you on a silver platter and you _waste_ it. Some of us actually had _nothing._ Some of us actually worked for it- _deserve it._ ”

Revali scoffed, throwing his wings up. “I can’t fathom why you bothered coming out with the truth if you didn’t want anything to do with this.”

Link froze. _“...What?”_

“Oh, pardon me,” The Rito laughed, mocking. Link cursed himself again. Whatever trap Revali laid, he’d just stumbled face first into it. “My kind are blessed with many fine skills- as you know- one of which is very good hearing. It was certainly nosy of me, but I couldn’t help but hang around after you and that father of yours showed up in that sanctum. I heard a thing or two, _lots_ of shouting. I was quite worried for you.”

He paused dramatically, musing over something. “What was it that stuck out to me? A lie? Two years? _Running_ from responsibility? Goodness, I can’t _remember!”_

There was a mix of fear and rage boiling underneath Link’s skin. His hand was gripping the sword on the floor next to him, and he could hear the scabbard rattling as he struggled to control himself. 

There were voices approaching. One was soft, laughing, and he realized it was Zelda. In a moment of weakness, his eyes darted towards the walkways, praying they weren’t too close. Fleeting as it was, it didn’t go unnoticed by Revali.

“Oh, what good timing! Surely Her Highness is aware. Maybe I’ll ask her to refresh my memory since you don’t seem very talkative.”

Stairs creaked. They were just around the corner. 

Revali leaned in again, just as he did on the landing a day ago, and muttered, “What? Are you scared? Don’t worry, _Hero,_ I’ll help you overcome that fear.”

Just as Zelda’s group appeared at the mouth of the dining room, Link had reached out, grabbed a pie, and flung it at Revali’s face. The Rito stumbled to the side, catching himself on the table. Cream dripped on the floor.

 _“You’re all talk,”_ Link snarled like a feral dog.

There were a few gasps, and for a heartbeat, nothing happened. 

A pitcher of water was yanked off the table, splashing over him. Link was soaked from head to toe.

“And you’re a _coward,”_ he retorted.

Link’s patience was a thread, and with that word, Revali snipped it in half.

Possessing all of the grace of a cat scrambling out of a tub of water, Link hurled the table aside and tackled him.

Impa screamed at them, probably demanding they stop. Was that Purah, too? It didn't matter, he was busy dodging the skewers flying past his shoulder. No doubt the Rito and Sheikah below the platform were squinting at food sailing from above: thrown over the railing by the two of them.

It couldn’t have been a shock that blood was drawn. Talons raked across Link’s forehead in the scuffle, and feathers ripped from Revali’s head. Even more injuries were caused when the both of them were slapped in the face by something flat and wooden.

 _“Cut that shit out right now!”_ Purah screeched as his head snapped to the right. It echoed over the valley. When Link sat up to look at her, grimacing, the woman sent him falling back to the floor with another smack of her clipboard. _“Stay down!”_

Revali grunted in pain; he was being hit, too.

Both of them laid there alongside drumming pots and pans. The Sheikah sisters looked too tall from that angle. Menacing. Looming. Their fury shadowed from the light above.

And just like that, dinner was ruined before it even started.

  


* * *

  


When Purah deemed it safe to allow them to stand again, Revali immediately flew off. In spirit, Link did the same. He dragged his sword by the scabbard’s leather belt, stomping off, and refusing to so much as look any of them in the eye.

No one bothered to stop Revali or him. Not even a word of protest. Townsfolk didn’t engage with him, either. Most likely, they heard the fighting loud and clear in the open air, and Link felt a wave of shame and indignation come over him.

What was the point of that, exactly?

Link understood his part of it: a pathetic attempt at protecting Zelda and him from the truth. _And_ protecting his bruised ego. But Revali was a bundle of mystery. Whatever it was that made the Rito so volatile, he still didn’t understand. He knew he wasn’t in any position to judge him, though. Revali never once bothered to offer an explanation for his anger- and Link had done the same more than once.

There were a few things he could predict. Profuse apologies would be made. He would most likely have to beg forgiveness in the morning as well, and perhaps dinner was taken elsewhere. Impa, Zelda, Purah, and plenty of the Sheikah must have stayed to clean up their mess. 

However, what Link couldn’t predict was the chief’s sympathy.

He was inevitably dragged out of his tent by Impa the next morning- placed in a winter coat while his Champion’s tunic floated in soapy water- and marched up the stairs to speak with the Rito chief.

He knelt before the old bird, nursing a particularly deep gash on his palm. It was the same hand Revali burned.

The chief, Yulan, laced his wingtips together. “I must apologize to you,” he announced. The statement was puzzling. “I should not have forced Master Revali to come to our celebration.”

Yulan sat back in his chair, the thing creaking. “I have no doubt it was too much for him to bear. Thus, I apologize on all of our behalf, including Master Revali’s.”

“...I’m sorry, I don’t understand.”

“Don’t apologize, we should have warned you ahead of time, but we did not want to embarrass our Champion... Do you know what it is we were celebrating?”

“Parents?”

“Precisely. Also, elders who have passed. It is a day in which children show gratitude to those who have raised and guided them.”

“What does that have to do with Revali?”

Yulan was very matter-of-fact about the story. “He never knew them. His family, nor his parents. We don’t know whether he was orphaned or merely abandoned, and when he was young, he confessed to me that it made him feel worthless. I believe that to be the root of his desperate fight for recognition.”

“That’s…”

“Rather cliché?” The chief finished, and chuckled. “He is well aware. I suspect that is part of the reason he is so sensitive about it, and I suspect your sudden rise to power seemed all too easy to him. It brought too many insecurities to the surface at once.”

Yulan bowed his head. “So please, I ask that you do not hold any resentment for him. I believe him to have a rich heart beneath it all.”

“...I’ll try.”

“Thank you.” When the chief lifted his head again, he did say, “But I _would_ ask you to refrain from breaking my kitchenware in the future.”

Link bowed his head profusely, and the old Rito laughed again.

He left that conversation with far too much to think about. In a way, Revali made plenty of fair points. Hindsight willing, it felt like the Rito was admonishing him.

Link would pout, he would brood, and he would waste his time thinking plenty of things that amounted to nothing at all. It was stifling- the things he was doing to himself. Now that he was free of the castle, maybe he should give in to his impulses in the same way Revali did.

If he had any respect for the people around him, maybe he should stop wallowing in self-pity.

For the second time that day, something he could not have predicted was waiting for him at camp:

Revali stood in front of Link’s tent, wings crossed, tapping his foot and glaring at any Sheikah who tried to stare. There were a few nicks along his beak- several bald spots where his feathers had been torn. Link stood battered right alongside him: a bandage on his forehead, bruised cheekbones, and a near-useless hand dangling by his leg.

The Rito made a gesture to follow him. Unquestioningly- and albeit suspiciously- he did. They stopped in a clearing when everyone in the camp was out of earshot. As Purah had promised, there were some explosions overhead echoing from Vah Medoh, reverberating across the valley- disturbing snowcaps.

“I have no idea how that’s supposed to fix anything,” Revali carped. He was quiet, and then snipped, “That old man blabbed, didn’t he?”

“Yep.”

He winced at how blunt that response was.

“I bet he asked you to forgive me, too. Don’t. I don’t want it.” There was more silence before he blurted, _“However!_ I admit I was too harsh in judging you. I am sure you have struggles of your own that I am unaware of.”

Link scratched the back of his head. There was something he also had to admit. “You were right.”

Green eyes flicked towards him. “About?”

“I’m a coward.”

For once, Revali had no words to respond.

“I ran,” Link elaborated. “I’m not like you. I didn’t want to be forced to behave.”

“You _are_ strange. You really don’t fit in with that pompous crowd.” He tilted his beak to the sky, remarking, “...Neither does the princess.”

Link’s mouth pressed into a thin line. Anxiety was there, twisting beneath his lungs. “Don’t tell her,” he pleaded softly.

“Why not?”

He looked Revali in the eye, trying to convey severity. “It will hurt her. More than you know.”

There was a light scoff. It wasn’t mocking, though. “You mean it will hurt you.”

“Both.”

A contemplative look passed over him. His eyes moved with every passing thought in his head, as if he was weighing his own moral code of honesty against his guilt for baiting Link into such a ridiculous fight. He swallowed. Revali didn't know just how much power he held over him in that one moment- all the sharp edges he could dangle over the back of his neck. Yet, strangely, what the Rito said next indicated he had no intention of abusing it.

“...I don’t approve, but It’s not my secret to tell.” He relented with a warning. “Mark my words, she’s more intuitive than you give her credit for. _Don’t_ underestimate her or you’ll regret it.”

Link smiled a bit. All that time spent with Revali- she must have caught on to a thing or two.

“Thank you, Revali.”

“Right,” he sighed. “Now, let’s go back to hating each other. All this is just too sappy.”

As per his request, Link threw a pebble at him. He tried to hide it, but Link didn’t miss it when he laughed under his breath.

Little did he know, Hylians also had good hearing.

Revali flew off seconds later: the Rito a hurricane in more ways than one.


	7. Seeking Warmth

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. Hi, I got carried away and this is 31 pages long  
> 2\. Not even Urbosa can stop Link from doing stupid shit, and I stand by it

Occasionally, a gust of wind would toss sand from the dunes into the open air. It reminded him of an ocean tide, the way it sprayed salt across his face- the feeling grating and raw. He liked it. It weathered away all the sharp edges.

Riju’s hand grazed the smooth back of her seal as she stood transfixed by a hole in the desert. Threads of sand poured into the black expanse: pillars lopsided and broken as they were slowly devoured by the earth.

“It’s bigger than it was before,” was a nonchalant comment that earned an eyebrow raise from Riju.

“So it’s true,” she finally moved her hand again, petting the animal.

Link turned, hands on his hips. “Her journals?”

Riju nodded. “It was expunged from our records, but she mentioned it briefly. A battle involving Vah Naboris. Did it do this? Blast a hole straight to the old ruins?”

“In a way.”

“Oh? What else could have caused this?” She turned quickly, her braid swinging like a pendulum. 

He wasn’t sure how to answer. In all the mayhem, it was difficult to pinpoint the exact cause. There was, however, a catalyst.

Although the memory was held together by a stitching of hurt and violence, it was amusing to him. His answer was said with fondness; but it probably only served to make the young girl’s blood run cold. 

“Just an angry princess.”

  


* * *

  


They departed as Purah’s company was still packing. Zelda was not going to follow them, but they were sure to meet again- if not at Vah Rudania, then in Zora’s Domain. Urbosa was very insistent in her letters that their next stop be in the desert, after all. It’d been months since they saw each other, and although her goodbyes with her fellow researchers were heartfelt, the princess was clearly excited to see one of her oldest caretakers again.

The trip was supposed to be only a week long. It wasn’t until five days passed that Link accepted the fact that it would take at least two weeks.

Zelda’s behavior made it clear why her last pilgrimage took over three years instead of the expected two. She was fickle, veering her horse off to the shiniest things she saw. Hylia forbid, if the top of a shrine could be seen on the peak of a mountain or submerged in a lake, she’d be sprinting off towards it before Link could even get off of his own horse.

Most times, she didn’t bother to warn him. Doing anything that required him to look at something that wasn’t her was a risk. The only thing Zelda knew how to cook was fruitcake (shockingly well) and it was a guarantee that Link would have to choose between chasing after her or making sure their dinner didn’t burn over the fire.

By the week’s end, Link gave up on keeping tallies after filling two pages, and when his father sent a letter asking how things had been, his response was to tear out one of the scorekeeping pages and send it back without context. It perplexed the postman- but he could already see his father cackling at it, maybe even going as far as to frame it in the barracks when it arrived.

Link wasn’t sure how the postman managed to find them with each delivery, either. The man must have had the nose of a bloodhound. Or maybe he just followed the overwhelming scent of burnt food.

The way they regarded each other remained the same: Zelda occasionally filling the silence with idle chatter- more to herself than him- and sat quiet the rest, fiddling with her Slate.

There was one day in particular when she was silent for hours on end. It was as eerie as the mist rolling past them, and only the sound of hooves against a dirt road were there to remind Link he hadn’t gone deaf.

Droplets of rain began to fall. He couldn’t see her face, but she looked up and breathed something. It was inaudible- it left him unable to tell what the emotion behind it was. She would look back at him: a hand raised against the drizzle overhead and a silent question in her eyes. A glance at the sky told him there was no flicker of lightning to be seen. Thus, Link deemed it safe to take shelter beneath a tree canopy.

Water dripped onto his head. His shoulders. There was no wind. No birdsong. And now, not even the sound of hooves.

It wasn’t long before he stood up, preferring to swing a sword around than spend another second saturated in a quiet not of his own making.

Was this how she felt? Being around him?

Link remembered Revali. The way that Rito could rake the words out of him: force him to break his facade. He knew he should speak. He should complain when she ran, he should ask her about this or that. He should fill the silence when she couldn’t.

It was a peculiar thing. Link spent years as a lowly guard; he had yet to come to terms with the fact that he was now a Champion and that it raised him to a level he had yet to identify. Did it make him a kind of royalty? Could he speak to her the way Rhoam’s imperial guardsmen could dare to speak? Should they be friends? On equal footing? She had treated him as such a long time ago, even when Link wasn’t some sort of hero.

The distance between them was smaller than it had ever been. And yet at the same time, it was greater than it’d ever been. It was better that way. Yet, it didn't feel like it was. A contradiction. That’s what he was. A ball of contradictions. 

It occurred to him as he swung his sword that he was less worried about his discomfort than he was her own. That left him perplexed.

“I doubt this will let up anytime soon…”

Her sudden words were a relief. He couldn’t see her face, but at first, the tone of her voice wasn’t as solemn as he expected.

“Your path seems to mirror your father’s. You’ve dedicated yourself to becoming a knight, as well.”

It was admirable, she said. His dedication. When he finally looked towards her, her expression was surprisingly empty- hollowed out: as if she was the container of water that had spilled over and caused all the rain.

“...I can see now why you would be the chosen one.”

He looked back at his sword, staring at the water as it slid down the blade’s surface. Her change of tone was enough to tell him the kind of look that came over her face. 

“What if… one day, you realized that you just weren’t meant to be a fighter?” Zelda’s face was shadowed, maybe even a little frustrated. “Yet the only thing people said was that you were born in a family of the royal guard, and so matter what you thought, you had to become a knight.”

She looked like she wanted to close her eyes- shut something out. Maybe the sound of rain, or maybe the sight of him at the edge of her vision. Maybe both.

“If that was the only thing you were ever told… I wonder then, would you have chosen a different path?”

Oddly, he didn’t hesitate to speak. 

“I wanted to be a knight, Your Highness,” he admitted. The words looked like they stung her, but he continued, “And when I realized that it wasn’t going to be enough for me, I did want this sword.”

He remembered the stale life of a guard. Waiting, waiting, and waiting. Watching. He didn’t realize how much he hated it until very recently.

He gathered his courage. Link would tell her the truth, but only a portion of it. “I think I was meant to be a fighter... But I don't know if I can live up to all of this.”

Link tossed the sword down. It stayed upright, embedded into the dirt and mud. He wanted to tell her just how desperately he’d wanted to reject it and put it back into its pedestal. The way he ran and lied, and was still lying. King Rhoam was the one who insisted the truth be buried, but Link didn’t utter a word of protest. He may have come clean, but he had no intention of coming clean to all of Hyrule.

He felt he didn’t owe Hyrule anything.

But the question remained, just how much did he owe Zelda?

The more he learned about her, the more difficult it became to know whether she would find comfort or anger in his fear. She already felt abandoned by the Goddess. What was one more blow?

The simple fact was Link didn’t want to risk tipping her over the edge. Most of all, he didn’t want her to hate him any more than she already did. It was selfish. Embarrassing. To think he cared so much about what one girl thought of him. He shouldn't be so easily affected. Still, he would heed Revali’s warning.

He would tear down whatever version of himself she’d built up in her head. Brick by brick over time. The truth didn’t have to be laid out all at once, and maybe it really was best for her to piece it together herself. Slowly. Carefully.

Link shrugged as if it all weighed nothing. “I was told I was meant for it. So I took it. I had to bear this sword and all its downfalls because I had no choice but to.”

She recognized those words. The memory of that cave seemed to ground her, pulling her away from all the thoughts fogging her mind.

He smiled, not bothering to mask the pain behind it. “It might not be entirely the same, but I think I can understand a little of what you said.”

Zelda hummed lightly, processing his words. She glanced over her shoulder- to the statues placed quaintly beneath that tree just as she was.

“I appreciate your honesty,” the princess managed. She had an easier time looking him in the eye. “I think- I think I can understand you a little better now.”

Zelda laced her fingers together over the Sheikah Slate, holding it to her chest. “It’s a comfort, truly.”

The rain lightened soon after. He led them down the hill, back to where their horses waited, but stopped when he didn’t hear Zelda following. He half expected her to have run off again. She was still there, however, at the top of the hill. Her Slate was raised. She was taking a picture of that tree. When she glanced at the screen, Zelda breathed something. It was inaudible again, leaving him unable to guess the emotion behind it.

He got a hint when the princess turned to look down at him: the ghost of a smile on her face as she followed diligently in his footsteps. 

  


* * *

  


Whatever was prompting Zelda to flee his presence so often receded somewhat after that conversation. She even demanded he teach her to cook. He let her try, albeit reluctantly. Link didn’t doubt her talent for cooking, but he couldn’t help but remember the journal he read- specifically what she fed those cuckoos.

It turned out he had every right to be suspicious when she pulled out a far too coincidental line of ingredients: Mighty porgy, some thistle, and bits of mushroom that had an uncanny resemblance to razorshrooms. 

When she saw him eyeing it, Zelda played coy. “We have a long trip ahead of us into the canyon tomorrow! I hear these foods do wonders for strength.”

Her eyes were round, blinking at him. It reminded him of his horse’s gentle eyes, asking for a carrot or two.

...It was cute.

Any backbone he had disappeared, and he muttered, “That’s very thoughtful of you, Your Highness.”

The impish grin that spread across her face made him want to recant that statement immediately. It was thoughtful, alright. Downright scheming. 

Once Zelda succeeded in getting him to down three bowls of the soup, she threw subtlety to the wind.

“Can you help me lift this? It’s so heavy!” She was struggling to move a pack that she’d blatantly filled with rocks. In all honesty, he didn’t know when she got a hold of all those pebbles and bricks- or when she found the time to slip them all into that bag.

The only conclusion was that she’d been planning that skit for quite some time.

Weak as he was to any request she made, Link walked over and lifted it with one arm.

“Ooh!” Zelda had the same look on her face as a Korok whenever someone lifted the rock they were hiding under. She waved her hands like one, too.

Once he turned to move it into her tent, he heard the sound of a pen scribbling against paper.

At least she didn’t put any mysterious bugs in it, he thought.

…That he was aware of.

Before the Calamity, the canyons leading to the desert were busy. It was unusual to go several minutes without passing a carriage or two, or seeing a group of people traversing the scaffolding high above.

Monsters were still plenty, but there were enough Gerudo traveling to and from their hometown that it wasn’t even necessary to hire guards to patrol the canyons. Unlike the Hylians of the North, it was a common expectation among the Gerudo women that they all do their part and eliminate every monster they saw.

Perhaps it came from living in a desert surrounded by Lizalfos and Yiga. They relied upon each other in a way the other groups of Hyrule simply didn’t have to.

He had no doubt Zelda traveled to the desert often, but she still marveled at the massive stone bridges above them. She would lean back on her horse: her hood falling as she watched the vast structures pass overhead.

Link would marvel at the canyon alongside her. All the traveling he’d done in his life had been to the North or the East. He was used to rolling hills, dewy grass, and cloudy skies. The closest thing he experienced to that canyon was the outskirts of Death Mountain- it was a detour he took on his way home from Zora’s Domain the year he turned fourteen.

He met Daruk on that excursion, too.

Zelda pointed to a particularly large gap in the stone walls. “We stumbled upon Naboris’ leg there! We mined it for months before we realized it belonged to a Divine Beast.”

She quickly pointed to a bird sitting atop a precipice. It was tall and the color of rust. Its beak resembled a pickaxe more than anything else. 

“Those birds are native to this region, as well! They break apart the cliffside to dig themselves nests. Believe it or not, we only saw Naboris’ leg because of them. Apparently, one of the poor things almost knocked itself out pecking against the Sheikah Slate.”

She sounded like a tour guide. 

Zelda twisted to look back at him. “Oh! Link, have you ever-”

The sound of falling boulders cut off whatever she was about to say. Something snapped from above- the sound sharp. Zelda's horse reared up, barely dodging the massive rocks, and she was thrown off onto the rough dirt below.

He dismounted, running up to them to snatch the horse’s reins It tried to tear itself from his grasp: thrashing and kicking up dust. Running a hand across its neck was enough to calm the animal just before it trampled its own owner.

When he was certain it wouldn’t startle again, Link helped the princess crawl to her feet. Red seeped from torn fingertips, and her hood was twisted around her shoulders, yet she seemed fine.

“Is everyone ok down there?” A worker called from above, sounding apologetic. “The scaffolding broke!”

He noticed the wheelbarrow that was now lying in pieces in the midst of all the small boulders. That scaffolding must have collapsed under the weight.

Zelda would be the one to call to them and assure they were alright. Link suggested they continue on after she dusted off her clothes and tended to those small wounds. Although she agreed, the princess seemed hesitant to get back on her horse.

“I’ve never seen anyone calm him like that,” she remarked. Her eyes slid from him to his horse-its head low and lazy. Calm. “...Why didn’t your own horse startle?”

Link glanced back up at his mount, fingers tangling in the brown mane. “I make sure to soothe him whenever he startles from something big or small. It shows them that you’re unafraid, and teaches them to stay calm over time, Your Highness.”

She blinked, and patted her horse despite her wounded fingers. It nuzzled its nose into her hand. The princess smiled at that- perhaps considering it an apology of sorts. “I’ll do that, then.”

Reaching the desert took the whole day. Gerudo Canyon Stable was a glow of orange in the setting sun by the time they arrived- the canyon already coated in ginger-like colors, and the evening seemed to saturate it even further. It was almost jarring to look out over the desert to see a deep violet sky bleeding into the sunset.

Both of them agreed any trek across that sand should be done in the morning. He left to have their horses registered at the stable, and by the time he returned, Zelda was still rooted in place. She looked over the sand dunes as if she was expecting some sort of creature to poke its head out of them.

Her demeanor had changed a bit. She seemed hesitant- just as she was hesitant to mount her own horse. Link couldn’t tell if she’d talked herself into exhaustion, or if she was letting her thoughts run wild in her head again.

“There are open beds in the stable, Your Highness,” he offered.

“...Could we sleep over there instead?” She pointed to a small bend in the cliffside near the stable. It was well hidden, barely within sight, and not nearly as open as the stable beds. Walls would surround them on all sides save for that narrow entrance and the sky far above.

“I’ve been sleeping on the ground so long I’m just not used to a proper bed,” was her excuse. 

He weighed her answer, wondering if it stood up to scrutiny. It didn’t, yet Link would accept it regardless, deciding it was best not to pry. Thus, the tents were set up, and a small fire was lit for the night.

Zelda claimed that sleeping on the ground was easier, but hours ticked by and she refused to enter her tent. Her dinner remained untouched. She sat with her knees pulled to her chest, watching the flames. Every now and then, she would stare into the darkness outside their cavern, eyes following each traveler that passed by their little nook.

Those lanterns were like fireflies in the night. They bobbed with each step, some dangling off the end of a pole leaning against a Hylian’s shoulder. As the nighttime reached its peak, they grew scarce.

“Your Highness,” Link finally spoke after he ran out of frivolous things to occupy himself with, “do you plan on sleeping?”

Her head didn’t move when her eyes slid towards him. She already looked exhausted. “Eventually.”

He threw a stick into the fire. It made her flinch. 

“...Is something bothering you?”

She shook her head. Goddess, it was like he was having a conversation with himself. That little speech he made the other day made her warm up to him a little- but that was just it: a _little._ She didn’t trust him yet.

Link was frowning. Zelda wouldn’t acknowledge it.

He ran his hand along the scabbard next to him and tried a different angle, “I’ll stay up.”

“Aren’t you tired?”

“I have plenty of energy from that food you made,” he lied, but only partially. Link could function better with less sleep than most people; one restless night wouldn’t make much difference.

Zelda knit her brow in thought. “...Ok.”

With that, she crawled into her tent. Link thought that would be the end of it, but the sound of her tossing and turning continued. He lost count of the minutes- how long it went on.

Something _was_ bothering her.

There was louder rustling. Miserably, she shuffled out of her tent, threw another stick into the fire, and drew her knees to her chest. Zelda was glaring at nothing. No one. 

Link was… unsure. With every glance he stole at her, the princess’ glare would get worse and worse: her nails digging into her arms until it looked like the fabric would rip.

“Your Highness-”

“I am fine, thank you,” she cut him off.

Well, that was it then. 

Sighing, he craned his neck to look up. There was a swirl of stars. The canyon sky was far from any large cities, allowing anyone who camped beneath it to see a brilliant dusting of colors and flickering starlight. He was sure it looked like that in Rito Village as well, but he hadn’t stopped to take it in with the same care. It was a rare sight, and he drank it in.

There was a streak of red darting across the open air. It was a shooting star, the sound a pleasant chime. Link marveled at it, but a spike of unease was thrust into his chest when Zelda suddenly hissed:

_“I hate that awful color.”_

All he could do was stare at her, disturbed as she kept her own gaze trained on the stars.

In that moment, Zelda looked like she wanted to reach out and tear that sky in half. 

  


* * *

  


Despite her stubborn battle to stay awake, Zelda did succumb to the fire’s warmth. She was laying on the dirt, curling into the heat like a cat napping in a sunspot. Her hair splayed across the earth, and if Link dared, he could ghost his fingers across it.

He wouldn’t. He shouldn’t. But he did anyway, stealing away what little comfort he could. He’d learned to sustain himself on small things like that.

Link considered sleeping as well now that she’d finally calmed from whatever it was that left her so on edge. There was even a moment where he felt himself slipping away: lethargy pulling at the threads of his consciousness.

It was cast away when he noticed an odd shape on the other side of the road. Someone stood: staring into their little cavern with a single lantern hanging from their belt. It illuminated the road beneath them. His eyes traveled upwards, evaluating. From their clothes, they appeared to be a normal traveler, yet they lingered- evaluating something of their own. It was taking too long for his liking. The air too tense.

Link remained sitting, his head leaning against the wall in a casual manner. Very deliberately, however, he tapped his weapon. The sound carried, and the message was delivered clear enough.

_Move along._

Whoever it was, they simply walked off, their footsteps far, far too quiet in the dead of night.

He didn’t sleep after that.

When Zelda woke hours later, there wasn’t any sign of her anger from before. She yawned and went to stretch, but stopped short when she saw Link still sitting awake, watching the road.

“You didn’t sleep?”

“No, Your Highness. I said I’d stay up,” he answered without looking at her.

“...Right.”

The sky was blue. Almost noon.

Zelda scrambled to pack their things, insisting they were already days late and she wouldn’t make Urbosa ‘wait one minute more’. Link followed suit. Now that the darkness was purged from the desert, she seemed eager to cross it and ran ahead: slipping in the loose sand. 

The energy didn’t last long. By the time they arrived at the oasis, both of them were hunched over and soaked in sweat.

“We forgot the cool drinks,” Zelda heaved, waving her journal at her face. “We shouldn’t have packed that fast.”

Link stumbled over to the water to splash it across his face. It was chilly in comparison to the sun beating down overhead- a welcome relief. He went to splash more, but he found himself drenched when a wave of water crashed over him. Zelda had jumped in, and she was floating like a dead fish.

“Sav’aaq, Your Highness.”

A tall figure blocked out the sun. Zelda choked on some water when she saw who it was. 

“Biljana!”

Her tone of voice reminded Link of Impa when she spoke again, “It’s good to see you’ve finally arrived. _A week late.”_

The woman looked down at him as if she just noticed him sitting there dripping water. 

“I assume you are Hylia’s Champion?”

He raised a hand. “Present.”

Biljana insisted Zelda get out of the water, and Link grabbed their things while she protested. Upon plucking the girl from her pool, they were following the woman past bustling markets to the inn nearby. As they did so, Link couldn’t help but notice she had a build that could rival a Goron’s- and when she turned to speak, her lips were painted white.

(Many years later, Link would be convinced that the woman must have been Buliara’s great grandmother; the resemblance was just too uncanny to be ignored. Even the strange headband they wore was identical: a carving of something snarling, baring its teeth- and Link would often allude that he knew Buliara’s relative. It confused her as greatly as it amused him.)

Biljana sent another woman forth to let Urbosa know they’d arrived while Link and Zelda chugged cool elixirs in the background. How on Earth they survived the heat, he didn’t know. 

Their new guide tapped her sword against the floor, shouting like the barrack’s drill sergeants. “You will rest and we shall depart in thirty minutes!”

The woman wasn’t joking. She flipped a small hourglass on the table before assigning guards to the doors and strutting off to do- well, he didn’t know. But it was loud. She was yelling at several Gerudo women. He could hear metal scraping.

Curious, Link peeked around the corner.

...Was that a seal?

It had decorative armor on it: gold and purple. It was pale, too. He squinted, dazed. He couldn’t figure out how Zelda’s horse was there or why it looked like that. He suddenly realized how ridiculous the thought was and blinked rapidly, wondering if he was still sick from the heat or hallucinating.

The Gerudo soldiers were gathering several of them into a line, and he watched one woman take off: pulled by one of the animals. She hit a bump, sailing into the open air before vanishing behind a sand dune.

Almost instantly, Link appeared behind Biljana, hands on hips.

She startled when she saw him. “...Yes, little voe?” 

“What are those?” He pointed.

“Sand seals. Have you never seen one?”

A nod. “Do we get to ride them?”

“Yes, they will deliver us to our Lady Urbosa.”

“Can I ride one now?”

“In twenty-five minutes you may.”

Link frowned. Biljana frowned back. Probably only because she was realizing he was trouble waiting to happen.

“I want to pet one.”

She crossed her arms. “They are not for petting.” It was a test: to see how well he would behave.

He stared at one. Its whiskers twitched, and it barked. He looked back at Biljana. 

Her face twitched into a dirty look as she also barked: “Don’t get any ideas, voe.”

For a second time, he pointed at the seal and opened his mouth. What he said resulted in him being rudely shoved into the inn and the door slammed shut behind him.

“What happened?” Zelda inquired, lifting her head from the cool floor she was starfished across.

Link shrugged. He was bewildered. “I complimented someone.”

Zelda stayed mute. Her round eyes blinked. “...Who... were you complimenting?”

“Biljana.”

There was a much longer silence, and then: “What’d you say?”

“You look like a sand seal.”

Zelda snorted. Her head fell back down, and that was it.

Twenty-five minutes later, Biljana kept her word. The wind rushing past made the desert heat more bearable as the seals carried them out of the oasis, and Link found every excuse he could to jump over sand dunes or slide down a particularly steep incline.

Their Gerudo attendant yelled at him in the beginning, but he always managed to stay nearby. Not to mention, she was too busy making sure Zelda didn’t follow his example. He preferred to stay higher up the hills anyway. It gave him a better view of the land around them- something which turned out to be necessary given the state of that desert's monster infestations.

Whenever Lizalfos jumped out to attack them, they would be met with either a rush of golden spears or Link’s own sword, and he watched one tumble, exploding into a wave of electricity after he kicked it in the face.

Once Gerudo Town came in sight, a cry echoed over the desert. He and the princess turned their heads towards it- to the East where a sandstorm was raging. For the first time, Link could see the silhouette of Vah Naboris within as it marched: a tireless sentinel unwavering against torrential winds or collapsing dunes.

It was so vast, and he couldn’t help but think about what it would be like to climb to the top of it to gaze out over the entirety of Gerudo Desert. He suddenly regretted not being able to board Vah Medoh.

Link promised himself that was exactly what he would do if he ever saw that oversized bird again, regardless of Revali’s protests.

There was a rumble of thunder: lightning flashing around the Beast.

Would anyone or any _thing_ want to attack Hyrule with guardians like those? Rhoam never liked Sheikah technology, but it was easy to see why Divine Beasts still appealed so keenly to the man; very few in his lineage ever held such power in the palm of their hands.

And yet, the king distributed it to the many races across Hyrule, leaving their care to the Sheikah who had been subjected so many times in history, and Gerudo who’d been associated with Ganon. Maybe, just maybe, Rhoam was more generous than Link gave him credit for. But it wasn’t like he was about to find an excuse to approve of anything that tyrannical old man did.

It wasn’t long before Urbosa’s own silhouette came into sight. She was stood atop the gates of her city, looking like a wall of stained glass in all her bright colors and shimmering golds.

Urbosa hadn’t changed in the months since their ceremony. The memory of her was clear- the only thing that day that didn’t feel like a blur. When she arrived, there had been a change in the sanctum, and the sound of her heel tapping against marble was all it took to cause it. 

The way her footsteps echoed made him think of a stone dropped amidst a boundless, empty cavern; stone clacking against stone, and even in the line up of exceptional Champions she stood out as someone who embodied every facet of the title.

Somehow, that woman managed to capture the best parts of each of them. Mipha’s clear head, Daruk’s sheer strength, and Revali’s commanding presence.

Link had yet to figure out where he fit in all of it- if he shared any traits with her at all, and it wouldn’t be until several weeks later that he realized just what it was that Urbosa shared with him and him alone:

A penchant for violence.

She leapt off the wall once as Zelda skidded her sand seal to a stop, running into the woman’s arms.

A few things were whispered as the woman embraced her.

_‘Little bird.’_

_‘I missed you.’_

_‘I’m sorry.’_

“Hello, boy,” Urbosa turned her attention to him. Her face was amiable, but her eyes had a sharp edge to them. “I see it’s true that you were made Her Highness’ personal guard.”

Link bowed a little, unsure how else to respond other than to say the first thing that popped into his head:

“I like your sand seals.”

The sound she made was amused as she walked towards him. “Glad to hear it. I must thank you for bringing our princess this far unharmed. Rest assured I will keep a good eye on her from here on out, so please feel free to explore our desert in the meantime.”

“Can I see the town?”

She shifted her weight to another foot, crossing her arms. “I’m sure you’ve heard no men are allowed in. She will be here for a day. Once evening comes, I will send a messenger for you to pick her up.”

He contemplated. Link remembered the figure from last night. Zelda’s anxiety. It told him she shouldn’t leave her alone. 

“Can I get a pass as Hylia’s Champion?”

Urbosa laughed in a way that only she could. “Did Hylia choose a woman?”

“Not that I’m aware.”

“Well, that’s a shame. There’s nothing I can do.” She feigned despair and glanced around at the tents planted outside their town- some exasperation in her tone. “But don’t you worry, we have plenty of other guests that will keep you company out here.”

“You won’t let her run loose?” Link asked. He also crossed his arms. It must have looked strange to anyone watching; he barely reached the woman’s shoulders but was still debating with her like she couldn’t punt him into the nearest sand dune.

“I’m right here!” Zelda protested.

Their conversation must have been very funny, because Urbosa was still laughing between her words. “I promise you, boy, I would never let anything happen to her.”

“And you’ll send me a message for sure?”

“Link!” Zelda finally interjected. “I can take care of myself, with or without a guard. Now, if you’ll _excuse me,_ I’m going to go find a block of ice to lay on.”

With that, she made a show of trudging off through the gates. Urbosa walked off as well, instructing over her shoulder: “Come on now, don’t be so uptight. We like to enjoy ourselves here!”

Link returned to the oasis to set up their things. He had difficulty staying idle, spending most of his time debating with merchants and the like. A woman tried to charge him fifty rupees for a single hyrdromelon. He wouldn’t have it. The sun was setting by the time he managed to pry it from her hands for twenty, and punctual as ever, a Gerudo soldier sped over the hillside to inform him Zelda would be waiting at the gates for him to pick her up.

When Link arrived, however, the princess was nowhere in sight. Again, with everything, he should have seen that coming. Frustration overtaking him, he stomped over to the guards standing watch.

“Where did she go?” He demanded.

“Don’t worry yourself, voe," one rolled her eyes. "She went back in to grab her things.”

Link crossed his arms and plopped himself next to the gate, waiting. Half an hour passed. Then forty minutes.

He stood. “I need to go find her.”

Their spears crossed. 

“Fine. I need to speak to Urbosa.”

“The chief will be in meetings until the morning.”

“Are you serious?”

They didn’t answer. He glowered at them, kicked some sand, and stalked off. Zelda was abusing that law just to get away from him. Maybe he would’ve been fine with it if they were anywhere else, and things didn’t seem so dangerous.

The two guards wouldn't take their eyes off them. It was like they were expecting him to try leaping over the wall any second.

It was ridiculous. Offensive. Link would get into that town one way or another, but he would never do something that _obvious._ He would also get Urbosa to speak with him whether she deigned he was worth her time or not.

He spent the next hour waltzing around the perimeter of the town. It wasn’t all that suspicious; there were plenty of other travelers meandering outside the gates. He took note of the high wall and windows above. The rotation of evening to night guards told him there were no gaps in their pattern.

At one point, he tested just how fast he could clamber up the wall. Link threw a rock, shooting up the flat surface once the guards turned to the sound. By the time they looked back, he was already walking away and had the layout of that portion of town memorized.

It didn’t take much time at all for him to complete that round. There was even a flicker of light still on the horizon by the time he arrived at the front again. He tapped his foot, debating by torchlight. With his newfound knowledge, Link was sure he could get into town, but staying out of sight long enough to find Urbosa was too large a task.

He needed to lure her out somehow.

A glance to his left told him the guards were watching him more carefully than before: their eyes sliding every which way as he paced from one end to the next. So they _were_ suspicious.

An idea came to him: tents. Urbosa had been eyeing them with the same suspicion earlier that day.

There were four of them nestled in a circle by the North gate. One was much larger than the others, and several men were ducking into it as he approached. He could hear chatter- hushed voices. The glow of lanterns filtered through the cracks.

Link didn’t hesitate to barge in.

For a moment, the group of six didn’t seem to notice as they hunched over a makeshift map. The paper was a complete mess. He could only guess the large square drawn on it was supposed to be Gerudo Town. 

It wasn’t until he squatted next to them that a few went quiet and stared.

“What are we planning?” Link asked.

One of them stammered, “Are you a spy?”

“No.”

“Oh, good.”

He was elbowed by a blonde man next to him. “Who are you?” The blonde demanded. “Did anyone invite him?”

“I’m a traveler.” Link offered.

“...Are you looking to get into Gerudo Town?” The first one asked.

“Are _you?”_

“Yeah-” he coughed from another elbow.

There was silence. Link managed to decipher a bit of the map. “Are those... pulleys?”

Begrudgingly, the group decided to let him listen in. One with a ruby necklace explained that portion of their plan. “We figure it’s the easiest way to get over the walls since the guards don’t have any openings. We could distract them and pull ourselves up.”

“Why? Climbing is easy.”

“Huh? It’s completely flat. What are you, a lizard?”

Oh, right, normal people didn’t have the strength for it.

Link mused over the plan. “It wouldn’t work from the front like that.”

“What do you mean?”

He cocked his head. They must not have known the town’s layout. “There are guards posted on stairs facing the entrance. They’re high enough they’d see you crawling over. If you do anything, you should do it at night from the East side where there’s a blindspot-”

Suddenly, four hands reached into the tent and yanked Link out, whisking him away as the men screamed in terror. When he looked up, he found himself being dragged to another side of the town by two angry Gerudo women.

Once they rounded the corner, Link was unceremoniously dumped into the sand. Urbosa stood over him, unimpressed.

“Sav’saaba, boy.”

“Sav’saaba.” He raised a hand. “Took you long enough.”

“...You know, those goons have been here for weeks,” a hand was on her hip. “I apologize for being so rough, but I can’t have you giving them any good ideas, now can I?”

Link crossed his arms, still laying in the sand. 

“Tell me, are you that desperate to sightsee?”

He corrected that notion of hers. “Zelda is abusing your law. She won’t leave the town.”

“...I haven’t seen her. Has she been giving you the slip often?”

He scowled. Urbosa chuckled.

“How about we make a deal?” She leaned down, looming over him completely. 

“Which is?”

“I let you in my town to look for her, and you don’t sow chaos for my guards. How does that sound? Enticing?”

He stood, trying to shake out the sand. “Sounds like I’m getting a lot more out of it than you.”

She sighed dramatically. “That’s right. Unfortunately, I have to accept that if there’s anyone who can break in, it’s you- and I would rather be in control of it when it happens.”

“What about your rules?”

A snake-like grin spread across her face. “Don’t you worry,” she crooned. “No one will know.”

She snapped her fingers, and five minutes later, Link was draped in lush silk. His face was veiled, and from anyone looking at him- he was, well, _adorable._

Urbosa said that much herself.

“I’ll be sure to let you know if I see our princess,” she laughed _loudly_ as she sauntered off into town. “Why don’t you take it for a spin? I’m sure you’ll be popular.”

That’s exactly what he did. Link wrapped his sword in more fine silk and stuffed his old clothes into a pack before trotting off to the front gate- straight to the tents.

A few of the men were leaving. Link sprinted up to them and copied exactly what Zelda did: dump his pack onto the ground and pretend to struggle to lift it. The sound of his struggling caught the attention of the men, and as they turned to face him, they looked wonderstruck.

He made his voice higher, whining, “Can you help me lift this? It’s so heavy!”

“I volunteer!” one of them shouted. Another shoved him, insisting he’d be the one to do it. Two more joined in.

“I just don’t know who’s stronger!” Link put a hand over his forehead, soaking in the drama. “Oh! You know what would be fun? Why don’t we have a competition? Can any of you climb that wall over there?”

They looked hesitant. He gave them one more nudge, bashful. “I have to admit, I think men who can climb are _so_ attractive.” 

With the batting of his eyes, four men went sprinting off to the wall.

The guards didn’t even bother to stop them. They exchanged a derisive look with one another, ignoring the men who couldn’t even climb five feet off the ground. Some made it seven feet. It was impressive.

Link watched on, hands on hips, and wondered if Zelda had as easy of a time manipulating him as he did them.

The answer was yes. It was embarrassing.

Once sure that his disguise would work, Link slipped into town without incident. He sped through the streets, looking for any sign of the blonde girl. But unfortunately, there were none. He asked if anyone had seen her, to which he received a couple flabbergasted ‘no’s.

He crossed paths with Urbosa once more as she walked down the steps of her palace, calling him over. According to her, guards had seen Zelda take off with her sand seal and a pack of supplies a long time ago. She probably ran off to do some exploring of her own.

“...You’re suggesting I just let her run free in the desert at night?”

The woman looked offended. “Of course _not._ Though, she’s smarter than people give her credit for. It might be hard for you to imagine, but Her Highness is an excellent survivalist.”

Link sent her a disbelieving glare, and Urbosa sighed. “I will send out a team to look for her. We’ll have her in our care within the hour, I promise you. Try as she might, our princess cannot outwit a Gerudo in the desert. _You_ should return to the oasis in case she shows up there.”

With that, the chief returned to her duties, and Link to his oasis. Predictably, Zelda did _not_ grace that inn with her presence.

Link would not sleep that night, either. There were a million thoughts running through his head. Kidnapping, electrocution, lost in the cold- _bears_ were something that popped in his head and he spent nearly an hour terrified of what the desert’s equivalent of a bear would be. Rhoam would kill him. He'd stab him with his own sword if he brought back news his daughter had lost a limb to _desert bears_.

It was driving him mad, and he received several odd looks when he sat up from his bed in a fit of anger to throw a pillow across the inn. It smacked into a Hylian as he wandered in, the man falling over with a loud grunt.

It was an entire day later that he received an invitation from Urbosa. They were at Vah Naboris.

Those men must have gotten their pulley ideas from seeing Naboris, because there were several hanging from its sides- swaying in the wind. Link grabbed one and shot up to the Beast, his boots making an odd sound against the slate as he navigated the odd structure.

There was a gentle hum of electricity- the force somehow tamed by that woman's will. Green illuminated the belly of Vah Naboris. The air crackled. He recalled the old mines at Hyrule castle, and suddenly missed them.

Link found Urbosa sitting on a balcony, the princess napping against her. She hadn’t been kidnapped, electrocuted, lost, or eaten by a bear. It was such a relief he almost had to lean against the wall for support.

“Ah, well.. You certainly got here fast. I should have expected as much, from the princess’ own appointed knight.” The smile on her face made him think she was less surprised than she claimed.

“She was out on a survey all day today.” Her tone was motherly: patient and endearing. “Still as the sands, now...”

Her tone wasn’t quite as endearing when she spoke to him, but the patience was still tangible. “So..? Spill it, boy. Have the two of you been getting along alright?”

Link didn’t have a clue how to answer that. Zelda would talk to him for hours and then run away at any given moment. She had the temperament of the desert: warmth and then bitter, _biting_ cold. It had stopped before they passed through the canyon, but returned in full force the moment sand grazed her cheeks.

Something set her off, but he didn’t know if it had anything to do with him or not.

“It’s ok, I know. Your silence speaks volumes.”

He didn’t need to tell Urbosa anything; she knew the princess well enough that she hardly even had to ask Link such a question. He wondered if she was trying to comfort him with the words she spoke after- the way she offered clarity for Zelda’s behavior.

Urbosa explained where Zelda could not, and, in her own way, acknowledged the princess’ unfair treatment of him. Link didn’t think of it as all that unfair. It felt like due punishment. 

Regardless, it was clear that she loved the princess dearly, and wanted to help Link build a bridge to cross the gap between the two of them. He had half a mind to tell Urbosa that was a bad idea. The woman didn’t know the secrets he kept: all the fleeting things he stole from Zelda to sate the emotions slowly eroding away his common sense. He deliberately maintained that gap between them to prevent complications he was well aware would arise. It was a net. A safety pin. A due punishment.

Back then, he didn’t realize how much of his behavior was reflected within Zelda. They were too alike for their own good, and it was something Urbosa would make sure to teach him before their departure several weeks later.

“You be sure to protect her with your _life.”_ It sounded like a threat. But when she turned, her smile was amiable as ever. “It’s quite the honor.”

A heartbeat later, Urbosa snapped her fingers and dispelled the quiet.

“What are you doing here?!” Zelda was floundering, Link was staring, and Urbosa was once again laughing in a way that only she could. “Wh- what’s so _funny?”_

There was a silent agreement between him and Urbosa that Zelda should spend her nights in town, if only to prevent more disappearing acts. So, Link elected to spend the time he wasn’t guarding her patrolling the town and its outskirts while all the shops were closed.

It would be a week before they traveled into the desert again- it gave him plenty of time to settle into a routine.

Urbosa made sure he had more to do than explore during the day. Lizalfols and Bokoblins would often try to storm the town, and Link was given the task to battle along with the Gerudo warriors: killing them before they could reach the gates.

It was far too easy, and he found that he had the most fun with it when he used his sand seal. Link would take sharp turns, pitching sand into a Bokoblin’s face, or he would spin midair: cleaving a Lizalfos in half as it leapt.

By noon, word must have spread in the town that Hylia’s Champion was patrolling the outskirts, and he quickly discovered that his title made him surprisingly popular outside the castle walls.

Plenty of younger Gerudo and Hylian girls would watch the guards and him battle monsters- occasionally cheering when they took down a particularly dangerous one. He was given an array of presents from them, too. There was a sapphire circlet to ward off the heat, or red elixirs to heal wounds. Some even set up a table filled with water and hydromelons, insisting he have them for free so long as he stayed to chat.

Remembering the belligerent woman who tried to charge him fifty rupees, he didn’t refuse the deal.

Under normal circumstances, Link would hate having so many eyes on him. However, those afternoons were very different. The attention he received was usually from vicious nuns smacking him with a ruler, scolding him for not bowing low enough or even standing straight enough when guarding Zelda. He was scrutinized at all times. Nothing was up to standard once he became a Champion.

So did he enjoy this kind of attention? One of them was bold enough to put a hand on his arm, and Link supposed the answer was yes.

At one point in the day, he caught sight of a familiar head of hair poking out from one of the gates. Zelda was sending plenty of dirty looks to his general vicinity- maybe angry that it looked like he was slacking off? As usual, the princess darted out of sight upon seeing him notice her, and he heard Urbosa laughing suspiciously loudly from somewhere inside the town seconds after.

He tossed the observation aside- he had no hope of understanding what that was about, and was far too busy ignoring the other men sending him equally threatening glares.

Before he knew it, Link was leading a double life. By day, he’d battle and explore, showing off for his new fans. By night, he would terrorize the men, patrol the walls, and learn more about the town.

There was a limit to what he could learn with most of the townsfolk being asleep. The only ones awake were usually stumbling drunk, and couldn’t so much as tell him what color his veil was. Sometimes Urbosa would watch him running atop the walls from the palace entrance, tickled by the way he sprinted from one end of the town to the next like some sort of wild animal.

It was exhausting, but incredibly freeing. It’d been far too much time since he’d been able to revel in anonymity. He had a feeling Urbosa knew that, too.

It was the sixth day when Link’s patrolling dredged up results. Aside from keeping tabs on Zelda to ensure she didn’t try to sneak out of the palace at night, he took careful note of the guards that would swap in and out for their shifts.

One of the women guarding the West end lived on the East, and would always be relieved from duty once night fell. She seemed like a creature of habit: always heading home to rest before arriving at The Noble Canteen to drink with her friends only an hour later.

Once she arrived home safely, Link split off to check on other parts of the town. An hour passed, then thirty minutes. The woman never made it to the bar.

Link rolled into the alleyways, and navigated them quiet as a mouse. He checked the woman’s door. It was in one piece. No damage, no forced entry. Gerudo preferred open windows: high and narrow. It allowed their homes to be well ventilated, but prevented just anyone from squeezing in.

Thankfully, he was built lean.

Link slipped through with little effort, feet grazing a countertop. The apartment was darker than it should’ve been. She arrived home, and yet it appeared she didn’t light any candles. At first, he theorized she was merely sleeping- too tired to visit the bar that night.

But the Gerudo’s bed was empty. Her house, untouched.

He stood in the dark hallway, debating what to do. Should he search the house more or run off to find her? A gentle breeze tumbled through the kitchen window, curtains floating. That was when he noticed the scent: subtle but laced with iron.

He followed it back into the kitchen. Link knelt down and brushed his fingers across the source- a splatter of fresh blood on the tile.

Warmth had already begun to seep out of the stone buildings, causing his hands to feel raw as he climbed the walls to Urbosa’s palace. The higher he went, the worse the cold wind was- especially in the light silks he wore, and he cursed the woman for living in such a tall building.

Urbosa was still up- the first indicator being the sound of her feathered pen scraping against parchment. He swung down from the roof, landing on plush carpet.

“What is it, boy?”

She didn’t bother to stop writing.

“One of your guards is missing.” Link tugged the veil from his head, walking into the room.

She set her pen down and looked over her shoulder. “Elaborate.”

“It’s Lottie. There’s no trace of her besides some blood left in her kitchen. No forced entry, from what I could tell.”

“When did this happen?”

“Some time in the last hour or two.”

Urbosa rang a bell, and Biljana appeared moments after. She spared him one flick of her eyes, unsurprised to see him there.

Details were given, the attendant bowed, and she descended to the barracks as quickly as she'd arrived. Urbosa did not follow. She remained. Thinking. Stony. The woman eyed her scimitar- the weapon sheathed against her bed.

“Where’s Her Highness?” Link asked.

“Sleeping with four guards at her door,” Urbosa assuaged his fears as she leaned against her desk. “I appreciate you bringing this to my attention, truly. If I have need of you again, I will be sure to call you.”

Link paced a little, his eyes narrowing at her. By the way she spoke, Urbosa wasn’t a fan of that look on his face, “Spit it out, boy.”

“You know who took her.”

She shrugged flippantly- just like he would. “Perhaps. I have an idea. Nothing concrete.”

Link wouldn’t let her dance around the subject. “There’s a group here targeting Her Highness. Is it them?”

Urbosa lifted her chin at that. She stared down her nose at him: perplexed but defensive. “You know about them?”

He gave her a withering look. “My father was a royal guard during the dam celebrations.”

“So he told you?”

“I figured it out on my own once I was in training.”

“...You know what happened to-”

“I have an idea,” he repeated, his tone low and grating. “Nothing concrete.”

“I see.” The Gerudo leaned back on her desk, crossing her limbs. “It is... a difficult subject.”

“Are you being obtuse on purpose?” Link’s patience was running thin. If there was a danger to his charge, why wouldn’t she tell him?

She scoffed at that. Her tone was more aggressive than he was used to. _“Calm yourself._ I had every intention to bring it up to you before our departure tomorrow morning.”

“Why didn’t the king tell me either?”

Why didn’t _anyone_ tell him?

“I wouldn't know... I’ve never known the man very well,” a finger was tapping against her pauldrons: contemplative. “I can only guess His Majesty thought he succeeded in wiping them out. I thought as much myself until recently.”

“If they’re still here, then why did you let her navigate the desert without protection before the ceremonies?”

Over the balcony, into the distance, the edge of Vah Naboris’ head could be seen rising from the dust. Urbosa’s finger twitched again, and the Beast stilled.

“They’d been quiet for many, many years after the rampage he went on... Even our desert calmed. I only saw them again half a year ago, prowling outside my city when the princess came to visit.”

She looked at him, her earrings swaying with the movement. “The long and short of it is that they are defected Sheikah determined to end Hylia’s lineage. We call them Yiga.”

Urbosa explained that they were old: their history easily stretching the length of a dragon- a millennia and a half. They had talents for disguise and stealth, and usually the only way to tell them apart from the average Hylian was by trusting one's instincts- something which was unreliable for most.

“Are you canceling the trip?” he inquired. 

She had the same snake-like grin as before when she answered. “That won’t be necessary. As long as we stay near Naboris, none would dare approach.”

The chief snapped her fingers, and pillars of lightning erupted in the distance- the Divine Beast howled amidst the thunder.

Well, he couldn’t argue with that.

Link blamed himself for the woman’s kidnapping. He should have timed his patrols better. Maybe he could’ve prevented it, somehow. Urbosa told him rather bluntly that was stupid, and promptly instructed him to return to his inn.

He would do as she said, but not without a final question slipping out.

“...Is she sleeping ok?”

By the way she regarded him, something must have dawned on Urbosa, but she shook it off when she answered. Her voice was quiet, as if she was scared of waking the girl below, and lied despite knowing he wouldn’t be fooled.

“Yes, perfectly.” 

  


* * *

  


They departed in the morning, and Link made sure to get there earlier than usual. He wouldn’t have her running off again, but, of course, that’s exactly what happened.

However, he wasn’t the reason she was running. The princess came barreling out of the front gate, screaming at him as she passed: 

“Stop that lizard!”

There was a small creature trying desperately to get away from Zelda, scurrying at a speed Link didn’t think it would be capable of. As a result, he found himself sprinting after the princess at full speed. The both of them were stumbling in the loose sand, and the reptile was gaining distance. 

Zelda face-planted after losing her balance. But like a true fighter, she pressed on: scrambling to her feet with a curse- something he never thought would come out of her mouth. Link could have caught it easily, but he was focusing too hard on not trying to laugh. He enjoyed that part of her more than he cared to let on.

He did show mercy eventually, and ran past her to snatch the lizard before it could dive into a hole. It wiggled in his hand, sticking its tongue at him. Link watched Zelda crawl over to them, exhausted. It was almost pitiful.

“Th... thank you,” she was heaving. “That… is… a hearty lizard.”

“What do you need it for, Your Highness?”

She stumbled to her feet and took it. Then, after a moment, she presented it to him looking a little shy. “It’s a gift. I- I thought you might want it.”

“...Me?”

“Urbosa said that dipping them in a little water would make a powerful elixir. We can free it afterwards, as well.”

He was still confused, so she continued, “They have healing properties. You’ve been fighting all week… and I thought- well- I just thought you could use it.”

Something Link had to get used to was Zelda’s strange way of apologizing: little gifts here and there. Even she struggled to find words every now and then.

When he took it, she beamed. It would have been endearing if not for the fact that she was drenched in sweat, and he quickly suggested they cool off at the oasis. Urbosa planned to meet them there around noon, anyway, and Zelda wasn’t one to refuse a little shade.

The princess busied herself with making the elixir as promised, grabbing a bottle and dipping it in the oasis water. She put their hard won lizard in with some difficulty, keeping her hand over the top to ensure it didn’t escape.

She stayed kneeling and looked up at him. “There should be monster bones in my old pack. Could you please grab a few?”

He nodded. It was in the inn. The door was a little offset, scraping against the floor as he opened it. The innkeeper yawned, and exchanged a lazy wave with him as he passed. 

“Here to throw more things, voe?” the Gerudo teased. 

Link opened Zelda’s pack and tossed one of the rocks that was still in it over his shoulder. 

The woman scoffed, feigning indignation. “How _dare_ you.”

It was when he smiled that a familiar weight cascaded over him. Link froze, his vision tunneling just a bit from the sudden wave of stress. Light flashed behind his eyes- recognition striking him, and a second later the door was flung open as he bolted out of the inn, skidding to a halt near the lake. 

Zelda was gone from the water’s edge: shards of glass scattered across the dirt and her lizard nowhere in sight. There was a flash of blue; she was running behind the tree line on the other side of the lake. Link ran faster than he thought he could- catching sight of blurs of red and metal gleaming in the daylight.

Panic seized her. She stumbled and fell. Zelda’s head snapped back and forth to the men looming over her, their weapons raised. They were slow. Stupid enough to drag it out- an arm high and exposed and begging for consequence.

Link was never one to truly harm people. He would frighten, intimidate, or bruise them. The thought never occurred to him that it was as easy to sever their limbs as a monster’s, and he found he didn’t feel a shred of remorse when he did.

The attacker’s weapon went flying. Their unnerving mask dipped out of view as they collapsed at his feet, and Link pointed his sword at the other two. It was a simple threat. He would do the same and more to them if they dared to get close again, and a head tipped as one stole a glance to their companion crippled- crumpled against the earth. Weighing. Deliberating. In a show of arrogance, Link would take a much slower glance before drawing his eyes back up to them: raising an expectant eyebrow.

They would cut their losses.

Taking the subtle hint, the two vanished, smoke drifting. It reminded him of the way a monster would disappear into a violet mist, and when he looked down, the one at his feet had done the same.

Lowering his weapon, Link turned to Zelda. 

“Your Highness-”

She cut him off again. This time, however, it was by tackling him. They stumbled. Zelda wrapped her arms around Link, her hands fisting into his shirt, and her head burying in his chest. She was holding on to him tightly: shaking as if she was standing alone in the midst of a Tabanthan snowfield.

His shirt was wet. It was with some delay that he realized it was the result of tears.

The princess had been attacked by many things from Guardians, to monsters, to wild animals. She’d nearly frozen to death in spring water, or poisoned herself with elixirs- but each time she brushed it off, not even sparing the incidents a second thought before marching on to her next dangerous excursion.

It’s what disturbed him the most back then, really: the way her composure shattered to pieces.

They stayed like that for quite some time- his mind at a loss. He'd never seen a person cry in front of him before, and he had little idea how to handle it- little reference. Link could only remember the way she preferred to be surrounded by walls. Like the canyon. Tucked away. Hidden. Without looking, he could sense it; the entirety of the oasis' attention was on them: eyes prying- wide and intrusive.

He didn't like it, either.

Zelda kept her hands fisted in his tunic as they walked back, her head lowered. He didn’t know if it was shame or fear. Link didn’t think too hard about it. It wasn’t important.

The woman at the front desk was alarmed at the sight of them, yet wouldn't pose any questions as they settled in a dark corner of the building.

Zelda refused to let go despite his attempts to coax some sort of response out of her. And so, Link’s hand remained tangled in her hair, another wrapped around her back. He couldn’t see her face, but it was apparent that she’d calmed. The panic was receding, thankfully, and two hours passed like that before the Gerudo chief appeared.

She was a shadow: the sunlight a glare behind her as she stood in the doorway. Link would stare up at her as Zelda’s head stayed tucked away in the crook of his neck. His sword cast aside on the floor, his hand still wrapped around the handle. Urbosa's eyes shot from that blade to his, searching for answers.

He didn’t say anything. Whenever Link recalled the memory, he couldn’t remember what expression he might have had. He remembered being unsettled in too many ways: angry or perhaps confused by it all. Bewildered at the girl clinging to him as if he wasn't a stranger.

Whatever it was, it was explanation enough by the way her shoulders slumped and her hands dangled at her sides. Several guards peeked in to see what was going on, but her hand shot up. They scattered like a flock of birds, fanning out to secure the oasis.

“Zelda,” he murmured low enough that Urbosa couldn’t hear, “are you awake?”

There was no response. Her breathing was slow and measured. He didn’t have any doubt that she was tired, and although indirectly, even Urbosa admitted to him the girl hadn’t been sleeping- too afraid of the shadows and passing firelight outside her window.

But now, just as she did in the comfort of Urbosa’s presence on that Divine Beast, Zelda had fallen asleep against Link’s chest, curling into him like a cat seeking warmth.

The woman gazed at the two of them a moment longer before her expression changed into something determined, and she ushered the innkeep out the door. It shut quietly; the sounds of the outdoors muted. His ears rang.

They were left in complete silence. Link curled into Zelda, too, holding her tightly to steal away what little comfort he could.

  
  



	8. Fractions and Fissures

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. I wrote THREE versions of this chapter and this is the one that won out  
> 2\. This is a sad one, but we'll be on to better things after it!

A week was all it took for Link to lose sight of who Zelda was after being assigned as her guard.

In the weeks and months leading up to the Champion’s inauguration, he was only ever exposed to one side of her. And then, in the weeks leading up to her second pilgrimage, the face she presented to each noble, nun, or even her own father was a far cry from the person he’d met- the person he spoke to under green lights.

The princess would stand in a corner of the sanctum, hands clasped before her, and smile with all the presence of a piece of furniture. She could stand within a spring for hours and hours and hours, denying herself even the barest respite all because it was expected of her. But then, like a band pulled far too taut, she would run and run and run if given the slightest taste of freedom.

He thought it was no different from his refusal to speak in those first few months: the result of expectations weighing down on him. But, eventually, his mask had broken. He was no good as an actor; and it was something which he had to come to terms with after one silly argument with Revali. Zelda’s mask, however, had been carefully maintained for over a decade.

There was a growing suspicion in the back of Link’s mind: a theory why she was that way. 

Her father could never understand her erratic behavior. It frustrated him to a point he lost sight of who she was, as well, and sometimes, in the whispered conversations he heard behind castle doors, Link could hear him confess that he was lost in how to guide her.

How could his daughter go from being so well behaved in his sanctum, to being such a danger to herself and the people around her? What was he doing wrong? How could he fix her? King Rhoam looked at his daughter the way she looked at machinery.

He blamed himself for not molding her properly. The girl was flawed clay.

Watching it all from a distance, there was only one conclusion Rhoam must have come to: discipline. Zelda needed more discipline. More restrictions. More guidance. More faith.

Link would have argued the opposite.

She was drowning, holding her breath, and could barely come up for air.

It didn’t occur to him until his time in the desert how Zelda was conditioned to withstand it all where he never was. Link had collapsed beneath the weight of Hyrule’s expectations after a meager year, and he’d assumed it was because he was weaker than her.

That’s all. He never thought much of it. He never thought much of the seven years that she disappeared- the reasons why; or the reasons why Gerudo Desert made her erratic behavior all that much more erratic. Days ago, Zelda didn’t want to be anywhere near Link. And suddenly, she wouldn’t let go of him.

Did she care? She clung to him like he was something important to her. Cold or warmth? Fear or comfort?

Zelda said she saw two things at once in him, and now Link would say the same to her. 

The princess stirred not long after Urbosa arrived at the oasis. She sat up, a chill sweeping into the space where she’d been laying on his chest, and blinked hazily at the room before her. Zelda’s braids were half undone. Blonde hair covered half her face- it spilled over her shoulders as she turned. Her eyes met Link’s. He sat quiet- he couldn’t think of anything to say.

A hand swept over her eyes, hiding something from him.

“I’m sorry,” was all she murmured before the two of them stood and walked out the door.

Relief was there in Urbosa's face when Zelda emerged from her makeshift sancutary. The woman's hands were quickly on her shoulders, and she was whispering something to Zelda, gently tidying her hair like she was still a child. They were apologies of her own: promises here and there. Whether they would amount to anything, Link hadn't a clue, yet it served to return some of the princess’ vigor. Perhaps that was enough.

“I don’t want to leave,” Zelda said when the topic came up. Urbosa clearly wanted to disagree, but she continued with an empty excuse, “I need to pray in Naboris before I leave.”

“Your safety is more important than that,” The woman argued, looking uncharacteristically stern. Emotional.

“Please, Urbosa... I want to stay with you a little longer.”

She looked at Zelda with something like pity and exasperation. Despite all her sense, that chief must have been as weak to Zelda’s requests as Link- because she lowered her hands, breathed deep, and nodded.

“Very well... But under _one_ condition,” she leaned forward, insistent. “You _must_ stay within Gerudo Town until my soldiers quiet the desert. We will escort you to Naboris after. Deal?”

Strangely, Zelda glanced in Link’s direction and agreed.

Riju was sitting atop a small stone. Patrica’s head was in her lap, the animal sleeping away. Its whiskers twitched, dreaming no doubt. “Did you ever find her?”

“Who?” Link questioned. 

“Lottie... The woman who was taken.”

“...We did.”

“Well?” Riju cocked her head. Link crossed his arms, thinking over the memory.

“You’re tough,” he remarked, the admiration beneath his words palpable. Genuine. “Even the Yiga have a hard time handling Gerudo.”

The young chief was giggling. “What, did you find her standing over a pile of them?”

He looked over his shoulder, lifting his fingers to mime a whistle. “No, but it wasn't me who found her. It was the _Vure.”_

“Oh!” Her legs kicked a little, and Patricia huffed in protest. “You got to meet them?!”

Link’s eyebrows raised- both at her excitement and that question. “Aren’t they yours?”

Riju sighed, dismayed. “When I come of age, their command will pass to me... For now, they are in Buliara’s hands.” Something shifted in her expression, something fond. Nostalgic. She lifted her head, closing her eyes and cupping her fingers around her ears. “Sometimes, when the desert is quiet enough at night, I can hear the sounds carrying over the dunes from my bedroom... I thought they were monsters when I was still small.”

The girl dropped her hands and smiled wide. “But now, I find comfort in it.”

“Well...” Link offered an exaggerated shrug, eyeing a set of pillars- remembering the peal of electricity. Static. “I’m still scared of them, that’s for sure.”

Her gleeful laughter reminded him of Urbosa with the way she threw her head back. It was bittersweet, yet it made him all the more certain Riju would have no trouble living up to the woman’s legacy despite all her fears.

  


* * *

  


As usual, Link leaned against Gerudo Town’s wall not three feet from the entrance. The guards didn’t spare him any attention; they’d become used to his loitering. Sometimes, they would even toss him a slice of melon before they swapped shifts like he was a dog they were rewarding for good behavior. He certainly wasn't above accepting those gracious gifts. Refusing a free meal was nothing if not blasphemy.

Zelda wasn’t sitting too far off, absentmindedly fiddling with her Slate. At one point, she raised it and pressed it to her eyes as if they were some sort of goggles. Whatever she was hoping for didn’t happen, and she growled, poking at its screen a little too loudly.

It was… _weird._ But at least she was returning to normal.

Heels clacked against stone, and he looked up to see Urbosa standing atop the gates yet again- gazing out with pursed lips. Before he could ask what she was staring at, a noise fluttered across the dunes. There was a group emerging from the Western sands: flickering specters in the haze of the desert heat.

It was a small troop of what appeared to be eight Gerudo soldiers. The sight of them was daunting when they drifted closer, walking over the sand- their steps utterly weightless even against shifting grain. Dark veils. Covered eyes. He didn't like it: not being able to see what or who they were studying.

“They’re here to pick you up, boy,” Urbosa suddenly called to Link. He pointed to himself, dumfounded. Reluctant. “I would ask that you join them in our search for Lottie. We will keep watch of Her Highness while you are gone, of course.”

He looked back at the women. They stood expectantly. A finger tapped his boot, and his gaze flicked down to see Zelda staring up at him. She nodded, wordless.

_’I’ll be fine.’_

Choosing to believe her, Link tightened the leather strap of his scabbard and trudged off.

 _Vure,_ they called themselves. The women patrolled the outskirts of the sand to ensure nothing from its most dangerous regions escaped to Gerudo Town; though he had a feeling there was more to their existence within that desert than one would assume.

Link’s group passed several more as they traveled into the dunes: assigned to each region by the point of a compass. He was left not knowing just how many there were- but there was no doubt it was a sizable force to be able to cover such an expansive stretch of land.

When they arrived at their destination in the West, he discovered the way Vure behaved was all too similar to himself. The women were unpredictable: running around the desert in haphazard patterns- but they were sharp, intuitive, and had the ability to think from the perspective of their prey. Where Lizalfos would normally be the ones to ambush traveling Gerudo, the Vure were the ones to spot and destroy them before they could even get the chance.

(He recalled the way Urbosa’s guards had fanned out in the oasis: a flock of birds- an orderly chaos flittering over the sand.)

They would search the Western ruins in pairs. Separation was far from an issue; those hollowed structures easily amplified sound, echoing for what seemed like miles. Thus, their whistles were clear as day, fluttering and impossible to miss. Melodic. Those instruments were peculiar- made of carved bone strapped to the back of a finger. He wound up transfixed, fascinated with how those whistles were designed, and once again felt the temptation to snatch one away.

One blow, come. Two, something found. Three, stay away. Those were the few commands he could decipher in the short time he spent with them.

Link eventually caught on to the reason Urbosa had him tag along when his partner pointed for him to search high areas here and there. As strong as the Vure were, very few people in Hyrule could match his mobility. His help would drastically shorten the time it took to clear steeper slopes or inspect monster-ridden caves.

Once the sun began to set, they swapped with another group that would cover the same land they did to ensure no detail was overlooked. Several days were spent like that. Tense. Repetitive and anticipative at once- and it was by the third night that the sounds of those whistles would ring in his ears. Some sort of imprint. Some kind of bruise in his mind that chased him into his sleep.

It was four days out- just before sunset- that two blows of a whistle sounded through the Highland’s outskirts. His breath fogged as he and his partner grew still, fingers grazing snow dusted rock. Several on a ridge father off poked their heads from a cave, also listening intently for the directions.

Come, or stay?

After ten seconds, one flutter echoed, and they were all dashed toward the sound.

A couple of Vure dragged someone limp out from a hole in the cliffside. It was Lottie still in her uniform: injured and frostbitten, but breathing nonetheless.

That night, the Gerudo’s head bowed before Urbosa outside their gates: her red locks splayed across the sand. Several of the Vure were trying to encourage her to lift her head, but she refused- insistent on begging for forgiveness.

“It’s my _fault,”_ Lottie confessed, voice fraughtful and hoarse. “I told them when the princess would be leaving.”

Urbosa’s fingers grazed the woman’s shoulder as she bent down, her tone motherly even to her own soldiers, “You carry no fault... Please enter, Lottie, you _need_ to be treated.”

The woman had escaped from them of her own volition. How exactly she carved her way out of her freezing cell, Link never found out. But he knew that she wandered for days- lost in the Highlands few Gerudo other than the Vure explored. There was a fall. A twisted leg.

“It’s my fault,” she whispered in abject apology over and over, and when Link spied Zelda shadowed by the gates, her doleful expression told him she may have been thinking the same thing.

_‘It’s my fault.’_

It was when the night was at its peak that Link appeared on Urbosa’s balcony yet again. It must have been a routine of hers to stay up, scribbling away in a journal. He remained on the threshold, having the manners to wait for once.

When her pen tapped a single time, inviting him in, Link approached.

“What is it?” Urbosa’s voice lacked its usual boldness. She was weary, he guessed.

“How is she? Lottie.”

The corners of her mouth lifted a little, perhaps appreciative of his concern. “She’ll be alright. But her injuries… well, she won’t be able to continue on as a guard.”

He glanced at the plush carpet at his feet. It was lavender. 

“...Don’t you worry, boy,” she said in a familiar tone. “We will take good care of her. I’m sure she’ll be back in that bar by the end of the week.”

He almost decided to leave, but his curiosity got the better of him. “Can I ask you something?”

Urbosa seemed intrigued, so he went ahead and blurted out his question, “How are you so close with the princess?”

Her answer was easy- she didn’t seem to mind telling him as she stood to lean against her desk. “I knew her mother long before Zelda was born. I even met her when she was still less than a year old.”

“...You stayed in contact after she died.”

Urbosa’s eyes were downcast; the memory seemed heavy. “Yes. I couldn’t abandon her, especially when she was so isolated- alone in that abbey. Even her father never visited, obsessed with the Yiga. He told me he feared his presence would reveal where she'd been hidden away, but the... loneliness of it all changed her in a way I couldn’t prevent." Her head shook, eyes shut and frustrated. "She always thought he wouldn’t come see her because of her failure to unlock Hylia’s gifts... And none of us could tell her differently.”

_‘I didn’t want to be like him. Suffocating.’_

The freedom Link’s father gave him wasn’t as simple as irresponsibility. He must have thought of it as a gift. He must have seen what isolation did to Zelda and wanted none of it for his own son.

_‘How in Hylia’s name did I raise you to end up like that girl?’_

Was it the right choice? Did his father deliberately try to raise him to be impulsive and selfish? To shirk responsibility?

Urbosa’s head tilted, earrings swaying. There was a tremor in her words. “I suppose... I’m just trying to play the part her mother couldn’t.”

The woman did smile as warmer memories came to her. It left him perplexed, that fondness there. He'd come to understand Urbosa was capable of seeing the silver lining in things most people could not- it might've a kind of strength, he thought. She was always one to bounce back quickly: approaching life with measured, patient steps.

He envied her for that.

“As hard as it was, our visits were the happiest of my life.” Saying that, she glanced over to a stuffed seal hidden away in the nook of her bedroom. “I wouldn’t have minded having children. But it would have been cruel of me to do so... My responsibilities as chief would have torn me away from them time and time again.”

She said it was fine not having any descendants, however. 

“Believe it or not, I have a sister. She’s our primary ambassador and my stand in.”

Link had seen her before without the knowledge of her family ties. The Gerudo was distinctly different from Urbosa: rounded edges in both appearance and temperament, but the bow she carried on her back told him neither of the sisters were to be trifled with. There'd been a small girl dogging her heels- clinging to her much the same way Zelda clung to her own mother.

He asked what exactly happened to the queen, but Urbosa merely waved a hand at him. “It might be best you don’t have the details. It would upset you.”

“You think I’m sensitive?” The disbelief there must have been clear.

The woman studied him, evaluating something. Whatever it was she saw only prompted this to come out of her mouth:

“That’s... not what I meant.”

The silence to follow indicated she wouldn’t elaborate on that mysterious comment. Link crossed his arms, contemplative, but eventually waved with a nod and walked off, leaving the woman to get lost in her own past. He'd disinterred enough secrets to sate his curiosity for one more night.

A minute later, he was landing into an alley and making his way out of town. Though, his eyes were trained on the arrows glimmering underneath one of the merchant's awnings; and he was quickly punished for his distraction when his shoulder bumped into another person’s.

“Oh, pardon me-” she stopped short just as Link glanced up to see a pair of green eyes scrutinizing him.

There was a moment, the briefest hope, that she wouldn’t recognize him. Of course, when her eyes met his, he could see the bell ringing in her head. The princess’ hand flew to her mouth. He knew that look: her shoulders shaking, her face turning red.

How _dare_ she laugh at him?

“...Aren’t you chilly?” her voice was muffled from behind her fingers.

“Yes, Your Highness.”

Another hand flew to her mouth.

Hands on hips, he watched her with curiosity. “...You’re not angry?”

“Goodness,” Zelda said, looking him up and down. “The only thing I’m angry about is how well you pull that off.”

She was staring- but not at his face. Link snapped his fingers and it pulled her from her ogling as he asked: “Your Highness, are you going to tell anyone?”

Zelda considered it a little too long for his liking, tapping her finger against her chin. Was she messing with him?

“Does Urbosa know?”

“She gave me it.”

The princess raised her hands and backed down. “It’s her city,” she said before the amusement faded from her expression. “...Has she mentioned how long until I can leave?”

She was starting to feel caged. 

He only had bad news. Link shook his head. 

“...I see.”

He gave her a questioning look. Despite being unable to see his whole face, she somehow knew what he was thinking. Her face lowered. Shadowed. Glassy. Even she realized how predictable she was.

“I won’t run off.”

She loved the desert, but the night brought a chill in more ways than one.

Something popped in his head. A temptation: some sort of idea rooted in sympathy or impulsion. Anabelle was also there yelling in the back of his mind, and he suspected that the old woman would appear any second to chase him down with her walking stick. Bewildering as it was, she was always able to sense his stupidity.

He could already imagine the bruises. The trouble. The beating Urbosa would give him.

But it slipped out of his mouth anyway- precious moments before any common sense could stop him.

“What if I take you?” He paused, quickly adding, “Your Highness.”

Her own mouth parted. “I’m sorry, what did you say? I think I heard you wrong.”

Link averted his eyes. It was a second chance. Hylia was giving him a second chance.

“Did- did you say you could take me?”

...And there it went. 

  


* * *

  


There was a reflection playing out in his mind. Two weeks ago, Zelda hardly even trusted him enough to sleep in Gerudo Canyon. She stayed awake, and fixated on passing ghosts in the night while her own mother’s pressed against her back, wrapping her arms around her daughter- coiling like a snake.

Now, well- there was a change. Link had yet to decide if it was a wholly good thing. Convenient, perhaps. Inconvenient, probably, given what distance he hoped to maintain.

Zelda had suggested the next morning. Just for a day, she said, just to explore and then they would return by nightfall. A letter was drafted to leave for Urbosa so the woman didn’t panic at her sudden disappearance, and they would slip out.

Except, it wasn’t that easy.

Gerudo were hard to shake, and Link’s time with the Vure made him fairly certain Zelda’s fun wouldn’t last too long. As such, the princess pointed out they would need a head start: a lingering distraction.

She met him just outside the West gate after coming up with the excuse to play with the sand seals. The girl snuck up on him as he was patting one on its stomach- the animal laying on its back, soaking in the attention.

“You’re for petting,” Link muttered to himself, and almost flinched when Zelda spoke over his shoulder.

“What’s for petting?”

“...Nothing, Your Highness.”

The girl very blatantly jotted down a note of that in her head. A bit of heat went into his face when she quirked a grin. It was embarrassing. Regardless, she changed the subject and bent low to scheme with him. 

“Shall we exchange ideas?” There was a glint in her eye that was almost intimidating.

He told her there was one he wanted to try: something that would surely distract the guards long enough for them not to know which way they’d gone- if it was done flawlessly. It would take time, as well. Twenty minutes at the most.

“What a shame,” Zelda lamented once he told her the full scale of it. “...I wish I could see this.”

All the princess had to do was continue to wait for him by the West gate. Luckily, sand seals turned out to be gluttons for attention, and she offered a toothy grin when Link walked off- telling the guards he would be back soon. Something fluttered in his stomach at the sight of it; it felt odd, being on the same side for once.

He slinked by the North gate, overlooking the tents scattered around until he spotted the one he was after.

 _The goons,_ Urbosa had lovingly called them. 

After waiting until the guards were distracted by a group passing into Gerudo Town, Link barged into their tent again. Predictably, they were all still there. Six heads swiveled towards him, and one stammered:

“It’s you!”

He glanced at the map laid before them, noticing it was even more hideous than before. Hylia, what a tenacious bunch.

The loudest mouth of the group was the one to identify him. “We saw you fighting those Lizalfos! You’re the Champion, aren’t you?”

An astute observation, truly. He nodded and shrugged, flippant.

The blonde one, a skeptic as always, gave him a fishy look. “...Did they send you here to stop us?”

“Nah,” Link squatted, grinning devilishly. “Do you still have those pulleys?”

Heads shook. 

“...They were commandeered.”

Well, that was just pitiful.

They did, however, have rope. Link offered a simple plan: using the ropes, he would get them over the East wall into town. All it took was hammering a few spikes into the stone.

“There’s flat rock up there that the palace guards can’t see past. All you have to do is pull yourself up and sneak along it. From there, you’ve got free rein for however long you can run from them.”

“...Why are you helping us?” one questioned, piping up. He had a freckled face that reminded Link of Terry, and he almost felt bad for throwing them to the wolves. Gerudo guards would be even more vicious than usual; and he had a feeling they wouldn’t get away without a few nasty bruises or cuts.

But they were men of determination.

“You want to set a record, don’t you?” Link waved his hands in a dramatic gesture. “Longest time spent in Gerudo Town?”

“Yeah,” he agreed, “last guys made it two minutes.”

“Well I want to see it, too. And this method will get you at least five. I guarantee it.” There were a few ‘ooh’s and ‘ahh’s. “I just need you to wait two minutes before you jump into town.”

With nothing to lose, they agreed.

Once they set off, two of the loudest members of the group were assigned to distract the Eastern guards with whatever ridiculous argument they could come up with. The four men left with Link merely stared up at the fifteen foot wall, scrunching their noses at it.

A certain blonde man scoffed, “This is stupid. As if you can climb that-”

He ignored the man, snatched up the ropes, and climbed the wall like a spider. When he looked back down, Link offered a shit eating grin to the blonde before vanishing over the edge and thrusting spikes into the stone.

(Something about money or hydromelons was being shouted from the Eastern gate. Link could have sworn he heard one of the Gerudo cursing- and he was beginning to wonder if the merchant he met in the oasis was more infamous than he thought. Regardless, the men clearly had a talent for pestering guards.)

The ropes were cast down, growing taught when the men pulled on them. Link leapt off the wall as they ascended, gestured for them to wait their two minutes, and took off towards the Western entrance.

He made it to Zelda just in time for the shrill ring of an alarm bell to echo over the town.

The guards near them startled, raising their spears. Gerudo soldiers began shouting over the sound: ordering the other women to chase down intruders. He spied two of the men already sprinting through the alleyways inside the gate, laughing madly.

Feigning urgency, Link grabbed Zelda by the wrist and shouted to the guards: “Go, I’ll keep watch!”

They did as he commanded, running after the men with spears drawn. The second their backs turned, he and Zelda glanced at each other, scrambled to their seals, and made a break for it. 

  


* * *

  


“It’s so strange, isn’t it?!” Zelda was walking ahead of him through stone ruins, her arms gesturing wide as she ranted, “In the beginning, Naboris never had the ability to control thunder until Urbosa was made its pilot. It’s all her own powers amplified by the Beast. She used to only be able to summon two bolts per day, but now entire _storms_ whenever she is inside Naboris.”

She suddenly stopped and began to pace back and forth, giving him a full lecture on the subject. “It’s as if the Beast was _made_ for the Gerudo. The idea has so many implications, don’t you think? Her control is very limited from a distance, but Urbosa had the easiest time bonding with her Divine Beast- what if she has discovered its latent abilities earlier than the other Champions?”

The princess stared at him like she expected him to respond. She was met with an empty stare.

Then, her eyes widened, and she shuffled towards him- jabbing a finger in his face. “What could _you_ do if we gave you a Beast?”

He recoiled a bit, reclaiming some of his personal space. Zelda leaned back to think over her own question. 

“If we find another, I must be sure to have you try it out.” She nodded, resolute, and they continued walking. “Although, I haven’t a clue where we’d put a fifth one.”

Surprisingly enough, Link was partial to the idea.

There was a shrine Zelda stopped poke at, even asking Link if he could kick open its door. The answer was no, and he walked away with a sore ankle. 

Gerudo Desert had plenty of wonders hidden away within it. Ruins tangled in vines, fields of hydromelons, or remnants of ancient beings. The wind was calm that day, and they were able to travel beneath a vast skeleton far to the South. Zelda plucked flowers from beneath it, placing them in a few corked bottles. Sunlight bounced through the glass, coloring her face a myriad of bright colors as she stared into it.

Few monsters were present; and Link could only guess the Vure had been busy clearing out the desert for Zelda’s next excursion. It felt like deja vu, really; he remembered all the things the Zora did for him: comparing it to the way Gerudo treated the princess. Just the same as his fondness for rushing waters, it must have felt more like home to her than her own castle- the women more like family than her own father.

He wondered if she ever wished she’d been born a Gerudo, or even a Sheikah.

When he snapped out of his thoughts, Zelda was scampering one of the leviathan bones. He quickly dragged her off of it despite her protests, and they returned North.

Zelda would point to the blue-tinged horizon, to Naboris' silhouette. It was the East which caught her fancy next- a section of the desert she was more familiar with. As such, the princess knew exactly where she wanted to go. She presented a map that was far better than the one belonging to Urbosa’s unwelcome guests, a finger sliding across to direct his attention to a round piece of land.

“It’s a small oasis ...There is shade there, as well," she offered with a tilt of her head.

The water was a clear pool: its surface reflected swirls of pale light onto the palm trees around it. The movement was almost dizzying as he stared at it- his head feeling weightless and muddled from all the heat. Zelda laid in shade as always, starfished across the cool stone. He didn’t know if she was sleeping or staring up at the sky between the swaying leaves. 

He got his answer when she thanked him.

“I think I needed this.”

He expected her to say more, but the girl stayed quiet for some time, minutes passing. When she spoke again it was hesitant, almost inaudible. “Urbosa, did she-”

She stopped. Zelda must have sensed when Link sent a confused glance her way, because she dismissed her words, “...It’s nothing. Never mind.” 

They had the same habits, Zelda and Urbosa. Strangle little comments here and there that left him guessing the meaning behind them. He didn’t appreciate being dangled on a thread like that, but ultimately, he really didn’t care to pry.

Maybe if Zelda wasn’t royalty he would bother.

There were many things Link would ask if she wasn’t. Many things he would say- confess to, even. But it was pointless to dwell on it.

An intrusive thought wormed its way into his head- nagging him with the suggestion that he was the one who wished she’d been born something else. Anything other than what she was.

Time was slipping away, and by the time they recovered in the oasis, the sun hung lower on the horizon than he liked. Zelda crossed her arms as she watched the darkening sky. Her eyes trailed down, gazing at something too distant for Link to make out.

“I would like to go one more place before we leave, if that’s alright.”

Although they were behind schedule, the day had gone smoothly enough that he wouldn't protest. The place she hoped to go was nearby: a little to the South. The Arbiter’s Grounds she called it- it was some of the oldest ruins within the desert, and Zelda claimed there were luminous stones there that she wanted to chip away at as a simple keepsake.

The space was barren. Lonely. Pillars reached up from the sand, a few illuminated by the green of the stone at their center. It was dark, and the few rays of light that still filtered from the Highlands were intense- the shadows thick like ink smeared across the sand.

Passing by those old arches or columns were a rush in his ear, and he almost didn’t notice the flutters of a whistle in the distance.

One-

Two-

_Three _.__

____

____

“Your Highness,” he shouted ahead, urgent, _“Stop!”_

The princess did as he said and pulled on her seal, sand flying in the air as they skidded to a halt. When Zelda turned to him, the dunes erupted. 

Something had burst out of the sand behind her, leaping far above the Earth. It blocked out the moon: a black frame against the star splattered sky. He didn’t know what it was, but the flicker of electric arrows offered one brief picture. 

Simple things like bears or vultures had crossed his mind. However, Link certainly never predicted that the desert would have its own equivalent of a _whale._

The monster descended, unbothered by the arrows piercing its hide. It looked like a spray of water to him: waves of sand cast into the night air as it dove out of sight. Whistles blew in a symphony, and Link couldn’t even begin to decipher whatever was being communicated. 

Zelda took off on her sand seal, shouting: “It’s a Molduga! We have to run, Link!” 

Had anyone bothered to tell him about a sand whale? Absolutely not. 

A fin barreled towards him before he narrowly avoided another of the monster’s breaches. Vure crouched atop more ruins in the distance as they let arrows loose into the Molduga a second time. All of them together sounded like a crack of lightning, and both him and Zelda were thrown from their sand seals when they turned sharply- too frightened by the sound to listen to them any longer. 

__With their seals already long gone and some sort of carnivorous whale hurtling their way, the two had no choice but to sprint and pray they were fast enough to not get eaten._ _

__Luckily, the Vures’ attacks had slowed the creature, dizzying it._ _

__Zelda screamed next to him. It sounded like she was both terrified and enraged over the turn of events, and, really, he couldn’t blame her. Under normal circumstances, Link himself would have been having a fantastic time fighting something so powerful- but the mental image of the princess getting swallowed whole wasn’t as appealing to him._ _

__Something darted through the air, and Zelda stumbled to a halt. She’d narrowly avoided a pair of arrows piercing the sand inches before her toes. Link didn’t have time to question the strange attack, and leapt at her to prevent her from being swallowed by that creature yet again._ _

__It landed without a single arrow being shot at it; the Vure weren't firing at the monster any longer. That left him confused- lost until he and Zelda scrambled to their feet. Red and black. White there. Yiga, opportunistic as ever, were keeping the women distracted. Many Vure took shelter by hanging behind their respective pillars, occasionally firing back at them._ _

__He counted them before the Molduga descended again. It was eight Yiga against four Vure: an unbalanced fight. One pair was exchanging blows on an archway- the woman’s spear nothing but a flash of gold and metal as it spun- other weapons being flung from one end to the other._ _

It was entirely possible this chaos was what Urbosa meant by _‘quieting the sands’_ ahead of time.

When they finally made it to a pillar, Zelda hopped onto Link’s hand for him to toss her into the air. She barely managed to grab the edge of it and pull herself up before he followed suit- the Molduga veering off course to avoid the column. 

__Almost as if it could smell them, the monster circled: waiting._ _

__Link put a hand on Zelda's back and shoved her forward, forcing her to duck before another arrow could hit her. Nothing but curses ran through his mind; the Yiga were too far away for him to retaliate, and if he left the princess she would be shot within seconds. He could only hope the Vure would push them back- something which was proving to be all too difficult against the Yigas' mobility._ _

__It was a stalemate until a bolt of lightning scattered across the sand. The rumble deafening- the sound reverberating in Link’s chest as several Yiga were cast away by the strike._ _

__“Urbosa,” the princess breathed, somewhere between relief and fright. “It’s her lightning!”_ _

__He saw the woman’s seal startle just as theirs did- breaking off nearly sixty feet away. She leapt from it far more gracefully than the two of them had, and another set of Vure flew past their chief: dashing towards the Yiga. Urbosa turned her attention to the Molduga that now had its sights set on her, the woman smiling from ear to ear. It was malevolent._ _

__Zelda jumped in front of Link, shouting at her in a panic._ _

__In his eyes, time slowed despite the tide of the battle tipping on its axis like the flip of a coin. Vure who had gone to finish off the Yiga were enveloped in white smoke. It billowed out, obscuring their vision as the clan members vanished. A flicker of light. Paper spiraling into the open air._ _

__The Molduga rose from the dunes: soaring a distance from Urbosa. Its body was pointed- an arc set to swallow her whole as it dove. She raised her hand to summon another strike of lightning, but stopped short when she saw what had appeared behind the two of them. Malevolence turned to alarm. A look of terror he'd never seen on that woman's face._ _

__Link ducked beneath a Yiga as they swept their blade over his head. He kicked backwards when he leaned forward, ramming his heel into their abdomen and sending that attacker flying. The others, however, snatched at the princess’ hair when she dodged as well- yanking her back, exposing her neck. His sword was already drawn. Metal scraping- glinting._ _

__He was fast enough to stop them, he was sure. But Urbosa was not. She wouldn’t take any risks when it came to Zelda, and as a result, the woman lowered her hand: snapping her fingers. That aim was with deadly precision. Electricity tore through the Yiga, the men seizing instantly, but Zelda wouldn't stop screaming. Link's mind stalled when he saw he; the look on her face wasn’t fear as he would have guessed- her attention trained solely on a monster with jaws open and ready. Her teeth baring. Eyes narrowed. Piercing- a look of rage he'd never seen on that girl's face._ _

__It wasn't the Yiga Zelda cared about._ _

__He didn’t realize it at first, but the piercing cry accompanying her voice belonged to Vah Naboris. Something flashed: blanketing the desert in a vivid red with all the brevity of a heartbeat._ _

__A beam ripped a hole through the Molduga, pushing it away from Urbosa and sending it spiraling off through the air. The ground shook when the laser hit the sand. It quaked again when the monster plummeted into that same spot._ _

__The force of it was enough to cause the dunes to split. It fractured: creating a massive fissure that sand and stone cascaded into. Whatever ruins the sand was covering had broken open, revealing the depths of a temple buried underneath._ _

__Zelda was still tipping off the pillar by the end of it all, but Link caught her. She recovered quickly, pulling frantically on his sleeves before she leapt off to sprint towards her surrogate mother. She crashed into her hard enough to make even Urbosa stumble, and clung to her like a vice. The woman returned the embrace, but her eyes remained glued to the gaping hole still rumbling next to them._ _

When Urbosa glanced at Link, her brow knit together, he understood: it wasn’t her. 

__She wasn’t the one who called Naboris.__

__  
_ _

* * *

__  
_ _

“Did she really have such abilities?” Riju questioned. “To command such powerful Beasts by will alone?”

He considered her question for a moment. Even after all the years he spent navigating the mysteries of Hylia’s fickle nature, there was very little he understood. Still, there was one theory the desert made him confident in:

“...Zelda couldn’t hear the Goddess’ voice. But the more I think about it, she might’ve always had magic. It just manifested in a way the chantry and her father couldn’t recognize.” 

__He pondered on how she could alter the machinery, how it was instinct that guided her on how to piece them together in a way that reflected her desires. Zelda _knew_ \- just the same way she saw something wrong in his sword a lifetime ago._ _

__The way she picked apart that technology was unnervingly similar to how Hylia picked apart people: marrionetting them with the threads of fate._ _

__Riju leaned down and slipped her palm into the sand. “Did Lady Urbosa ever tell you the blood of Gerudo chiefs carry gifts of their own? It has never been as potent as Hylia’s bloodline, so not all inherit it, but she was one of many in history who could summon lightning.”_ _

__She stayed crouched and lifted her hand to him, the grain trailing back into the sand. “They say it goes hand in hand with passion and strong will. Without it, the power will merely slip from our fingertips... Perhaps, the princess’ gifts are the same? She projected her powers onto what it was that she loved so dearly.”_ _

_’That she loved so dearly.’_ The words got stuck in his head. Intrusive. He wasn't sure why. 

__The girl sighed. “...I can sympathize with her. I have yet to fulfill the expectations of my people, weightless as they are in comparison to her own.” Riju turned to him, green eyes sparkling with a little amusement. “But it gives me solace to know that even Lady Urbosa was not all seeing.”_ _

__He laughed at that. She certainly wasn’t. The woman hadn’t seen their grand escape coming that morning- hadn’t predicted the destruction Zelda would cause._ _

__Naboris had approached at Urbosa’s command. It came to a halt directly before her, and as she lowered her hand, so did the Beast. Maybe her fingers lingered in the air, slightly bent, to assure herself that it was still under her control. A deep breath. A contemplative frown there._ _

__Two possibilities laid in their minds: Vah Naboris either acted on its own accord, or Zelda had taken command of it despite possessing no bond to the Beast. The princess clearly didn’t know. She assumed Urbosa had been the one to call that blast: praising the woman for her quick thinking and flawless control._ _

__Zelda didn’t cry like last time. She merely moved into Urbosa’s arms again, apologizing profusely._ _

___”It’s my fault,”_ she echoed Lottie’s words, _“I’m so sorry- I almost killed you!”__ _

“It’s alright, Little Bird,” the woman chuckled, but her eyes shot to Link, vicious, “If anyone is to blame it's that _boy_ over there.” 

__He quickly looked away, bristling; it wasn’t like he kidnapped her. But- well- he enabled bad habits. That alone was worth a beating from Urbosa, which he promptly received five seconds later._ _

She smacked his head and yanked him by his hair, growling in his ear, “You know _better_ than this!” 

__The woman shook him as Link grit his teeth through the pain. It occurred to him that the desert’s equivalent of a bear may have been Urbosa herself whilst several Vure watched on- probably enjoying the show. Embarrassing. It was too embarrassing._ _

__With a hefty sigh, the woman released him and put her hands on her hips. “That’s good enough. I think you’ve already learned your lesson without me punishing you any further.”_ _

__Link rubbed his head, trying to alleviate the pain. Urbosa looked up at the Divine Beast kneeling before them with a suggestion, “I would prefer not to make another trip through the desert on foot... We will take Naboris most of the way.”_ _

__Several Vure split off on their own sand seals, returning to their duties as if nothing had happened._ _

__The slate beneath them shook as Naboris rose from the Earth; wind howled as Zelda rose along with that Beast, looking out over the vast expanse of land. Even the sunset could still be seen from that altitude, but the desert below almost made him think it was a mirror reflecting the night sky over their heads. It was infinite: spattered with flickering lights._ _

__With the Beast’s lengthy stride, traversing the space took a matter of thirty minutes as opposed to an hour of travel. Zelda sat atop the balcony. She seemed troubled again- the excitement of her outing washed away by misery and guilt._ _

__The Vure remaining left alongside Urbosa as the woman instructed them to stay while they retrieved sand seals from the town. The sound of a rushing pulley grew faint when they descended into the dark expanse below, leaving them in a heavy silence yet again._ _

__Link stood several paces behind Zelda and stared out into the distance as she did._ _

__She took out one of her cracked bottles. The princess cradled it: a wilting swift violet stuffed and corked in the glass._ _

__“...I’m sorry,” she apologized to him. Link didn’t want to speak- he knew he’d done enough damage already. Thankfully, Zelda didn’t make him. “I’ve made everything harder, constantly running from you even though you’ve been there for me every time.”_ _

__She raised her head, shutting her eyes. “I still behave like an ungrateful child... I've continued to misjudge you even after you became my guard. I thought you were going to turn out like all the rest who only wanted to confine and control me.”_ _

That irked him- not because she'd drawn such conclusions about him, but because he'd assumed the same about her. The both of them: defensive. Animals trying not to be dragged back into their cages.

__For once, it wasn’t the Slate she held close. It was that bottle. Those wrinkled petals. “I wanted to ask at the oasis earlier... Did Urbosa tell you anything after that attack?”_ _

__“...Yes, Your Highness.”_ _

__Her shoulders sagged, and the girl looked back at him. “The abbey?”_ _

__A nod._ _

__“Her death?”_ _

__He shook his head._ _

__The question she asked next didn’t make much sense to him._ _

__“I... heard from many people that you were very brave when you were young,” she swayed a little, her tone oddly casual. “Is that true? You wouldn’t hesitate to run in danger even as a child?”_ _

__“...No, Your Highness, I didn’t hesitate.”_ _

__There was a dip in her voice, a bitterness as she muttered, “If only I had known you then. Maybe I would have been able to follow your example.”_ _

__It was surprising, the way she began to confess everything._ _

"I think… it was in the garden,” Zelda murmured, wistful. “I don’t remember the details of what happened. I know our guards were lost, and my mother hurt. We hid in a dark room somewhere. She told me _‘no matter what, you must keep hiding’_. So, I... I stayed next to her.” 

Her breath hitched. Emotion was rising, her voice tinged with some kind of incredulity, “I thought- she’d fallen _asleep.”_

She leaned down, putting a hand on her face. “I knew I should have gotten help. I should have left that _accursed room-”_ her voice cracked, pitching in an awful way that made his chest constrict. He winced, looking somewhere else. “But I was too scared- and I will _never_ forgive myself for being such a coward.” 

Urbosa had been right. Knowing just made him upset. 

__Link stared down at her hunched form, not knowing what to do or say. “...You were a child.”_ _

“I know,” she whispered, taking a shuddering breath. It almost sounded like a laugh. _“I know.”_

__If Zelda couldn’t forgive herself for hiding even though she was so young, then how would she ever forgive him? It was a selfish thought, but one that reminded him too well of his own rampant guilt.__

__He thought about all the monsters he didn’t fight during those two years: all the people who may have died without him there to help. But it was too much, wasn't it? He couldn't- wouldn't dwell on those thoughts, and maybe Link was brave when he was a child, but it was never in the way that really mattered._ _

__In the end, they both felt guilt for the one simple thing they failed to do:_ _

Grow up fast enough. 

__Against his better judgement, Link walked the distance between them and sat next to her. Her head was still in her hand as he leaned over, instructing, “Look at me.”_ _

__She did, blinking curiously. The girl looked as broken as he expected: her face wet and sand still clinging to her hair. Link put a hand on her head, and for the first time was confident in what he had to say._ _

__“I won’t pretend there’s anything I can say that will fix it, but I promise I will never control you.” He paused, taking a breath, “and no matter what you think, I want you to understand that in all the time I’ve known you, I have never believed you are coward. Only the opposite.”_ _

__It wasn’t enough to fix it. But at the very least, he was there for her to bury her face into his chest a second time. At the very least, Zelda would not have to spend that night alone with her demons.__

__  
_ _

* * *

__  
_ _

__The last time Link ever saw the Vure was the next morning: when his old team squatted atop Gerudo Town’s walls and stared down at him. They all waved collectively. He raised his own hand._ _

__“Sav’orq,” their captain said before they flipped out of sight- no doubt dissolving back into their desert._ _

__Despite the strange events of the night before, it seemed no one noticed. Most were still discussing the record breaking romp a couple of men took through town. It was an impressive five minutes and twenty seconds, as Link had promised._ _

__When they returned last night, he’d seen them outside town bruised and beaten, but celebrating around a fire like Bokoblins around a roast. The blonde sat in the middle, the only one sober, and gave him the barest nod that convinced Link the man must have been Revali in Hylian form._ _

__(He doubted they would ever be able to pull a stunt like that again, but the Gerudo were surprisingly good natured about it despite beating the men to a pulp. There was a strange competitive dynamic surrounding that tradition that Link couldn’t even begin to unravel.)_ _

__One more day was to be spent in Gerudo Desert._ _

__Zelda and Link spent a large portion of it chasing down lizards. Most were red, others yellow, and some green. None were what she was searching for, however._ _

__“They love rocks,” the princess informed him, sticking her nose into a pile of them. Luckily, the next stone she lifted revealed one that smacked her right in the face._ _

__Link caught the blue reptile after it jumped, and they both quickly returned to Gerudo Town after Zelda recovered from the new lizard shaped mark on her forehead._ _

__Their experiment wouldn’t be meant for him that time. He watched from the marketplace as Zelda worked up the courage to walk over to the tailor’s shop: marching up to a certain bar-loving Gerudo. Nervously, she presented their hard won elixir to the injured woman. She must have thanked the princess profusely by the way she was bowing._ _

__Although Link didn’t wholly approve of Zelda trying to apologize for her own existence, the gesture itself had an immeasurable value to the two girls. It relieved their guilt; it tied loose ends that threatened to fray, and, perhaps, created one more good memory. That was enough._ _

__“She’s going to become a seamstress,” the princess reported. She unfurled a small handkerchief, holding it for him to see. It was made of silk: a vibrant green sewn with intricate patterns. “She’s quite talented, don’t you think?”_ _

__The Gerudo really was._ _

__The two of them parted ways soon after- Zelda had her own studying and praying to attend to, and him, anything that struck his fancy. Urbosa, benevolent as always, decided Link had the day off from patrol._ _

__As such, he found himself standing in front of Biljana in the training grounds._ _

__“Hello, little voe.” It’d become a habitual greeting._ _

__Link didn’t even greet her before he asked:_ _

__“Is there another Molduga around?”_ _

__Her response was like lightning. “Absolutely not, go occupy yourself elsewhere.”_ _

__“...Can I borrow your sword?”_ _

__The answer to that question was him being kicked into the street._ _

__It was in the evening that he sat at the very peak of Gerudo Town. A waterfall flowed next to him- the splashing water a welcome relief from the heat. The fragment of a luminous stone was nestled in his fingers as he held it up to the sun beating overhead. Green. Translucent. Zelda had wanted a piece of that stone for herself, but Link selfishly stole it from her when she wasn't looking._ _

__Maybe he would give it to her. Someday, if he ever stopped needing it._ _

__He looked out over the town, committing its streets to memory as best he could._ _

__The desert changed too much. His newfound friendship with the princess left him not knowing how to proceed: how many paces to walk behind her._ _

__It was distant, but he saw a figure staring up at him- the only one in the bustling town to notice him framed against the sky. They were a smear of blue and red. Urbosa, waiting patiently for him to return from his solitude._ _

__She walked out the Northern gate, and Link jumped from his precipice to follow in her footsteps._ _

__He was back in his tunic when he met her outside. They both leaned against the wall, arms crossed, and eyes trained on the oasis far ahead._ _

__It was rare for Urbosa to doubt her words, but she seemed hesitant when she amended, “I told you to protect her with your life, but that was wrong of me.”_ _

__He glanced over, waiting for some sort of explanation._ _

__“You should protect yourself for her... Make sure both of you come out alive.”_ _

__Wasn’t that the natural assumption?_ _

__“What exactly are you saying?” Link questioned._ _

__“I’m saying quit being so reckless,” Urbosa rebuked. “Don’t throw yourself into danger so flippantly.”_ _

__He smirked bitterly, resentful of that demand. The woman didn’t know how much value the rush of a fight had for him, or how reliant he’d become on it._ _

__That’s what he thought, at least. Of course, she had suspicions. Their existence was confirmed when Urbosa persisted- trying to hammer some sort of point into his head. “You’ve become important to her. You’re responsible for your own safety now.”_ _

__He almost laughed. Important to her? And Goddess, the last thing he needed was more responsibility._ _

__“What exactly are you saying?” Link repeated, droning._ _

The sound she made told him that she was rolling her eyes. “Figure it out yourself, boy.” She brought a hand to her face in his peripheral, muttering a complaint, “I swear, that man has too much faith in the Goddess’ judgement. Anyone could have told him sending two _teenagers_ out into Hyrule was a stupid idea-” 

Urbosa suddenly became very angry. She leaned forward to jab a finger in his face, startling him. “If you think I haven’t noticed, you’re a _fool_. Since Rhoam clearly didn’t bother to warn you, I’ll do it for him.” 

She partly unsheathed her scimitar. The metal gleamed. “Don’t you two even _think_ of getting up to anything or Hylia so help me-” 

__“What?!” Link snapped. The change in subject was so sudden he didn’t have time to adapt. His face was too red- and it was probably too much to hope the woman would assume it was sunburn. “I’m a _guard_!”_ _

__She chuckled, scornful. “Oh, please, boy. I’ve seen men smarter than you try-”_ _

__“Lower your _voice_!”_ _

__Their bickering was too loud. People were watching._ _

__“What?” Urbosa bent down to eye level again, taunting, “And miss you squirming like there’s a wasp in your shirt?”_ _

__He might’ve been flustered before, but that comment only made him stare. Unimpressed. “Is that what this was about?”_ _

__The woman didn’t bother to hide her amusement. “You brood too much.”_ _

__“Revali said the same thing.”_ _

__“Hmm,” she tapped her finger against a pauldron. She faked an epiphany: “You think it might be true, then?”_ _

__“At least I mind my business,” he retorted, and Urbosa just threw her head back to laugh at that.__

__  
_ _

* * *

__  
_ _

__When he arrived at Gerudo Town early the next morning, he was met with an unusual sight._ _

__Zelda knelt there drawing lines in the sand outside the gates, waiting patiently for him. The princess hadn’t run ahead, or sped past him on a sand seal, or even yelled at him to go elsewhere. Link spared a glance toward the sky to check if there were pigs flying overhead._ _

__“Shall we?” Zelda proposed, looking up at him. There was a green handkerchief tied on her belt: a new keepsake for the journey ahead._ _

__He glanced out, noticing a familiar tent was gone. Having achieved their goal, Urbosa’s goons must have packed their bags and left to cause trouble somewhere else in Hyrule. Though, Link guessed he could say the same about Zelda and himself._ _

__Of course, Biljana and Urbosa made sure to see Zelda and him off._ _

__She exchanged her goodbyes with the two women: hugs that lifted her feet off the ground. More promises were made. They would write, they would visit again, and they would miss each other dearly._ _

Urbosa smiled before pointing two fingers at him. _’I’m watching you,’_ it said, and it was Link’s turn to roll his eyes. Regardless of their arguing, he had no doubt the woman trusted him more than she would ever admit. 

__Biljana, however, offered a loving “Good riddance,” to him. His response was a cheeky salute that did manage to earn a mirthful sound from her. That woman was also more fond of him than she would ever admit._ _

__“Stay safe, both of you.” Urbosa’s words were sincere._ _

__It must have been bittersweet to watch them go; something in Zelda had healed- if only a little, but further growth required that the woman send her away from the sanctuary Gerudo Town provided._ _

__It was pride, Link thought. But there was a worry in Urbosa that she would never shake. She would fret. As any mother would._ _

__Just as it greeted them when they arrived, Naboris let out a cry across the desert when they reached the canyon. It was a goodbye of its own, echoing after them as their feet left the sand._ _

  
  



	9. The Magpie's Blue Charm

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. I've been told a couple times that my characterization of Zelda and Link is really... unusual?? It's a relief that you guys are enjoying it despite that. Thank you guys so much, as always.  
> 2\. I hope this chapter has a refreshing tone compared to the heaviness of the previous one  
> 3\. Did I manage to restrain myself with the bird symbolism in this chapter? Yes. Barely.

Link’s feet were crossed over a table, the Sheikah Slate loose in his hands as he peered across Wetland Stable. Listless. He watched the way the strings of a lute wavered after each note, the dust it would stir. He counted the beats. The pace of the song being played.

There were no drums, yet he could hear them clearly in his head. He wasn’t sure why.

Another Hylian man _-Yolero-_ sat leaning in his own chair, his fingers casually strumming away. There was a note, a flutter of sound, that made Link stand and march over to him. The music stopped as Yolero stared up, blinking and confused as to why he was looming over him. His eyes flicked past his shoulder before rolling skyward.

“Is this about that stupid sword again-”

“That’s the wrong note,” Link generously pointed out.

Yolero couldn’t form words. “Huh?”

“That’s the wrong note,” he repeated.

“....What note?”

“The one you played.”

“Uh... Which one?”

Link couldn’t think of how to describe it, so he merely put his hands on his hips and demanded: “Play it again.”

“The- the whole thing?”

He showed mercy. “The last half.”

The Hylian started to play again, albeit very reluctantly. After several beats it was there: off tune. Too high. Grating.

“It’s one note lower than that,” Link stopped him.

“What?” Yolero was incredulous- laughing, even. _“No._ It’s the right one.”

 _“No,”_ he insisted, pointing aggressively. “It’s not.”

He didn’t know why he was so bothered by it. He’d disagreed with that torch-obsessed Hylian more than once- but this was the one subject Link couldn’t seem to look past. That note irked him. It made him want to hit something. It made him want to hit Yolero.

The song had to be _right._

“I’m sorry, are you the one with the music sheet?” Yolero waved a piece of paper in his face.

He scowled. “Your paper is wrong.”

 _“Yeah,_ man, I don’t think-”

Link snatched the paper and tossed it. Then, when Yolero went to yell at him, he also snatched the lute from him. His chair tumbled away as he leapt to his feet. “Give it back!”

A hand shot out. Link sidestepped him. Once, twice- four times. It must have looked stupid to the rest of the stable’s visitors by they way they were spinning in circles. Though, it wasn't until a floorboard creaked that he stumbled to a halt, swallowed up by the memory it'd sparked.

White, patterned fabric, the leather of a belt- his hand on Zelda’s waist as she leaned back, her hair grazing the floorboards. Music reverberating off the walls: drums and candles and a pale bowstring.

The lute fell from Link’s hand. Yolero had to scramble to catch it before it fell to the floor.

“Sorry,” he apologized, coming out of his distraction with a shaking head.

The anger faded rather suddenly, leaving him to try and sort through the dizziness it left behind. It was an awfully strange development; nearly two years into his travels and he hadn't been so affected by a memory before.

Was that a bad thing?

Something told him it was.

Yolero gave him a look that suggested he was considering beating him with a blunt instrument. Maybe that torch. It was, however, raining, and the last thing the man would ever do is risk getting wet to go grab it.

“...Aren’t you done throwing a tantrum?” he asked when Link still hadn’t left.

“What’s that song called?”

He looked at the music sheet. “The… Sparrow’s Keeper.”

He returned to his table, leaving the other man to recover from the strange encounter and continue practicing. Of course, it was with a different song. 

  


* * *

  


Zelda walked ahead of him, chattering away right alongside the birdsong of the forest next to them. He kept his eyes on her back and the treeline passing by, feet crunching on the gravel scattered near the calm waters of Lake Kolomo.

“From here, we’ll make our way to Goron City,” she declared.

He didn't put much stock in that. The princess had argued with herself for days: unable to decide whether they should travel to Death Mountain before or after her visit to Vah Ruta. Whatever settled that argument he wasn't sure, though it probably had to do with the earthquakes travelers kept talking about.

The two of them hadn’t even arrived, but Link elected to blame Purah for it.

She started rambling again- to herself, as always. It left him to rethink the confusing map the girl had drawn out in his head. Zelda's insistence on planning out their travels was odd considering that she was so spur of the moment. It was water and oil; and admittedly, after the chaos of Gerudo Town, Link stopped trying to retain any plan she’d made. He preferred it that way: following her aimlessly and letting the beaten roads of Hyrule lead them to wherever they needed to go.

The time passing by might not have worried him as it did before, but he quickly realized it worried her.

“-if we want to turn back the Calamity Ganon, they’re our best hope.”

She nodded confidently to assure herself of that reality, but her steps slowed, and her Slate dropped to her side. The birds went as quiet as she did.

Water and oil.

“Tell me the truth,” Zelda turned her head. If she intended to look at him, she didn’t go through with it. “How proficient are you right now, wielding that sword on your back?”

His pride told him that was a ridiculous question. However, the quiet words that came told him it wasn’t his technical skill she was questioning.

“Legend says that an ancient voice resonates inside it... Can you hear it yet, Hero?”

It was so faint in the undertones of her voice that he almost missed it. That lilt. Zelda mocking him for the same thing she failed to do: hear mythical voices. It made him want to laugh, although he didn’t understand why.

He assumed she was trying to pull him down from the pedestal her father put him on. But to what end?

Zelda worked up the courage to look at him, and thankfully, expanded on that statement, “I’ve always wondered, is there anything that makes us equals?”

That was also a ridiculous question. 

“What do you mean, Your Highness?” Link’s impatience got the better of him. He wanted to ask her the same thing he asked Urbosa.

_‘Are you being obtuse on purpose?’_

The expression that flashed across her face reminded him of a child getting caught with their hand in a cookie jar. She stammered, “Well, I realize that sounds quite ridiculous-”

At least she knew. 

“-we couldn’t ever be equals. You’ve always been so much more capable than me.”

_What?_

She blinked, shocked by something. It was his tone. That word had slipped out. He bit his tongue.

Careful, Link clarified as politely as he could, “I’m confused by that, Your Highness.”

“Oh,” Zelda shook her head, “It’s alright. I was being foolish.”

It seemed like the princess was going to drop the subject, but her words must have escaped the clutches of her common sense a second time: 

“I was just thinking, you are Hylia’s chosen, and I am merely Her descendant. Hyrule’s court sees it differently, but… at some point I stopped looking at it from their perspective.”

She stared at the dirt, swallowing. “You have risen above any challenge and overcome so many of Her trials. Compared to me, your efforts must have been admirable for Her to think so highly of you. Our- our titles… they mean nothing in the eyes of the Goddess, don’t you think? They are silly man-made constructs.”

He was still biting his tongue. Link couldn’t even have begun to tell her all the things that were false with what she said- to unravel all the implications of it. 

When he didn’t speak, Zelda sucked in a breath and bowed her head a little- a small gesture of apology that nearly made his blood curdle. No _royal_ bows to their guard. No descendant of the _Goddess_ tells him that he is worth more than her. She may have been arguing the opposite, but it was practically blasphemy.

His own beliefs aside, that’s what Impa told him. That’s what thousands of years of history told him. Those were the rules he needed to play by.

His thoughts must have been plastered to his face when she glanced up, because she quickly backpedaled to recant her words.

“I’m so sorry, I’ve said far too much. I must have put you in a very uncomfortable position.” The princess lifted her head again, her eyes darting to anything and everything that wasn’t him. “Please, forget I said anything.”

With that, she turned on her heel and scurried away to their horses.

He was certain forgetting was a luxury he wouldn’t be allowed. 

  


* * *

  


The two of them stared down at a pot of soup. It bubbled, and the scent that wafted from it was mysterious. Dubious, Link called it, and the princess didn’t hesitate to agree.

“Who… whose pot is this?” Zelda whispered a rhetorical question. “Goddess, it’s worse than Purah’s cooking.”

Link scrunched his nose. The scent was like rotten milk. He glanced around the camp. Small and shoddy. A single tent abandoned several miles down the river from the Wetland stables. There was a rip in its side, and a cotton scarf discarded nearby.

They spied the odd scene from the road after a horse galloped from the woods: no owner in sight, and the smell of burning food following after it. 

He kicked dirt over the fire to put it out. Zelda was already poking around the camp looking for some sort of indication of who occupied it. A pair of tracks told him all he needed to know- and when he called for her, the princess poked her head out from the tent’s hole.

“Bokoblins.” He pointed to the mud. Four of them intermingled with a smaller set- a Hylian’s.

“Oh dear,” Zelda muttered, staring down at the haphazard tracks.

He gestured for her to follow before they descended further into the thicket. She peered over his shoulder, a hand resting there, too, as she she glanced every which way. They followed a path of broken branches and upturned dirt. Distant shouting. Bokoblins without a doubt. Finding the end of that trail, the two of them knelt behind a set of bushes and blinked curiously at the scene before them. Bokoblins were stamping their feet around an oak tree, pitching rocks into its canopy.

A Sheikah man clung to the lowest limb of that tree- the branch bent and extended dangerously over the edge of a river. He yelped like a puppy every time a rock came too close to hitting him.

“...Perhaps... we should help him?” Zelda suggested.

Of course he would, but Link felt inclined to watch the show a little longer. Judging by the tone of her voice, the princess was, as well.

It wasn’t until a Moblin came waltzing around the corner that he begrudgingly sprinted over before the monster could tear that poor man from his tree. He punted one of the Bokoblins into the river before it could look his way. The other three he bothered to dispatch with his sword before it was even finished skipping like a stone.

By the time Zelda ran over, he was waving away a cloud of purple smoke and inspecting a broken he stole from the Moblin. She passed him, staring up into the tree with hands cupped around her mouth. It looked like she was going to say something to the man, but his branch- predictably- snapped in half.

Link shielded his face from a wave of river water when he fell. The Sheikah splashed around: clumsily trying to reach the edge. He and Zelda exchanged a wary look before a gloved hand finally clutched the grass. The man sat there, half submerged in water and heaving loudly.

She crept forward, leaning down to offer him a hand. 

“Are you alright, sir?”

No response. Link didn't particularly like the way he sat there gawping at her- possessed by who knows what before very daintily taking her outstretched hand. Zelda pulled him up with ease and looked over him. A thin man. Odd clothing for a Sheikah, too. He was well-dressed; nobility with Sheikah heritage, he assumed. 

“Well, it appears you’re quite alright,” Zelda nodded sharply. “A little roughed up but nothing a good night’s sleep can’t remedy.” With that, she waved, and the two of them turned to leave. “We must be going, now. Your horse should still be near the road.”

The man darted back up to her, bowing low. “Please, miss! I must thank you for saving my life!”

“Oh, we didn’t do anything, truly,” Zelda backed away, smiling kindly.

“I would suffer greatly if I could not repay you!”

Link almost rolled his eyes when the man got down on his knees.

“That’s-” She looked at him for help, but he only shrugged indifferently. “I… suppose that will do.”

“May I... cook for you, My Lady?”

They both interjected at the same time:

_“No.”_

_“No, thank you!”_

His eyes moved between the two of them, bewildered by their harsh refusal. But, luckily, he didn’t challenge it, and pivoted, “I have friends at the Wetland Stables! They could offer you free meals and beds to rest in?”

“...We _were_ heading there,” she stared at him again. He shrugged a second time, and that was that. “...I’ll accept that.” 

  


* * *

  


Link was tasked with helping the man pack his things. Zelda offered to help several times, but their strange new companion insisted that she sit on a log and merely watch.

 _'A lady should not dirty herself with such tasks!'_ he'd claimed.

Link was tempted to enlighten him where the dirt already smeared on her face came from: crawling through a hollow log for beetles just two hours ago. She’d been too embarrassed to ask him to pull her out when she got stuck.

“My name is Reed,” the man finally introduced himself as Link flung his disgusting soup into the forest- bowl and all. “I was merely playing my flute when those monsters appeared and ripped a hole through my tent! Gave me the fright of my life!”

Tooting a flute in a monster infested forest? Link thought that was a grand idea. 

Reed very suspiciously looked between the two of them. “And you… are you _siblings?”_

“No,” Zelda coughed. Loudly. “He is my- my escort.”

When Link entered Reed’s tent, there were mounds of cases: fourteen in total. Instruments of all sizes. He flipped them open as their conversation continued outside the tent.

“Where might he be escorting you to?”

“North.”

“How far North?”

 _“Far,”_ Link interrupted, and tore away the fabric covering Reed’s tent. He threw his arm out as the twigs supporting it fell. “What is all this?”

“The tools of my trade, of course!”

“That’s too many tools,” he deadpanned. “How are you traveling with all this?”

“I have a -” The Sheikah glanced around and shuffled in a circle. “Oh my. My wagon was here before the monsters appeared.”

Zelda pursed her lips at Link. “That Moblin. Didn’t it have a…?”

He confirmed her suspicion by turning to Reed: “Moblins smashed your cart.”

“Moblins… smashed my cart?”

It was decided they would make the trek up to Wetland Stables on foot while their horses carried all of Reed’s cargo.

Link would have preferred to hide their identities, but Zelda’s horse was a dead giveaway. Upon seeing the famous animal, Reed dropped everything he had- including himself. Quite frankly, he was shocked the man didn’t figure it out just by looking at her. Or listening. Reed seemed far too absorbed in his own head for his liking, but he didn’t seem to have bad intentions. It was unfortunate. Link wanted an excuse to hate him.

“Your Highness! I'm so sorry!” he said, his voice muffled against the dirt he was prostrated against.

While it seemed excessive, it was fair; plenty of Hyrule’s court would have been slapping him silly if he failed to address them properly.

Zelda tried to calm the man, insisting that it was alright- that it was her fault for failing to introduce herself earlier. He’d almost forgotten how quickly the princess could slip back into ‘court-worthy’ behavior.

“Please, lift your head,” she said. “I promise you that you have been a perfect gentleman!”

When Reed looked up at her, it was with unbridled wonder.

“You are too kind, Your Highness!” he exclaimed as his face went back into the dirt.

Getting him to look up was one thing, but getting him to stand so they could leave was an entirely different battle. Hungry and wary of the setting sun, Link dropped the pack in his hands. Zelda ordered Reed to get up only when she saw him approaching from behind: ready to lift the Sheikah up and throw him over his own horse like another piece of cargo.

“What were you trying to do?” the princess hissed in Link’s ear after they set off. _“Manhandle_ him all the way to the stable?”

“I would tell him he was interrupting Her Highness’ pilgrimage,” he said, monotone and bending ever so slightly away from her scrutiny. “I’m sure he would understand.”

A glance behind. Reed was watching the two of them with some dubiety: more specifically at the princess leaning two inches from Link’s face. Realizing how it might look with a gasp, Zelda shot three feet away from him and walked her horse further ahead. It was blessing that quickly turned into the opposite when Reed slinked up beside him. That Sheikah didn’t feel comfortable addressing the princess, yet he seemed perfectly happy to talk to her lowly guard.

“You are Hylia’s Champion?”

He nodded.

“That is incredible!” Strangely, his praise sounded genuine. “Which house do you hail from?”

“I don’t.”

“...You are not of noble blood?”

“No.”

"Not a drop?"

A head shake.

Reed blinked- more than once. “You- you must be truly exceptional for His Majesty to allow you to guard his daughter, then.”

Link thought over it, and stated: “Right.”

That might’ve sounded narcissistic, but it was true, wasn’t it?

He brought a finger to his chin, musing, “I wonder why that was not announced to the public? While I trust your skills are justification enough, I can see why our king must have wanted it to be hidden.”

Among other things.

Reed’s skepticism was understandable, yet Link wasn't sure he understood the extent of it. His presence there was due solely to the Goddess’ influence, not his personal merit. No matter how strong he was, King Rhoam never would have considered him for his daughter’s protection while he was still so young. There were many things that his title as Hylia’s Champion made him both privy and immune to.

Immunity. He was immune to too many punishments. The thought dragged his attention back to the girl ahead of them.

He grimaced. Light bled from the West: spilling past trees and flooding over Zelda's figure. Her golden head a glare of light. The ornaments strewn across her horse flickered with every step: its tail swaying as gently as its owner as they walked. A hum fluttered from her chest- wavering notes that made him feel drunk in the head. Her voice did that sometimes. Make him dizzy and stupid.

It was enough to make him forget his position every now and then; he would forget his birth took place in a rickety cabin in the woods, not some marbled manor. Zelda certainly didn’t help with all her whimsical musings, either. Courts and titles and questions he wasn't qualified to answer. The speech she made at the lake was still rattling around in his head- loud as an empty can against cobblestone. It was hard to ignore all the intrusive thoughts that occurred to him and were still trespassing where they didn’t belong. They were all little possibilities. False hopes that were too painful to even entertain. He'd spent ten months working to accept his new place in the world, and all her probing was threatening to ruin what little peace of mind he'd managed to achieve.

To what end? He found himself questioning her intentions again. To cause him pain? To lure him into some sort of trap? Why would she entertain all the thoughts he wouldn’t?

In a way, he resented her for things she wasn’t even aware she was doing- causing him to feel. When he looked at the glare of the sunset, the pain it caused his eyes felt identical to the emotion that would splinter in him whenever she moved too close. His legs made of rubber. Butterflies and nails all at once.

“I am happy that you are looking out for Her Highness,” Reed admitted. “She deserves nothing but the best.”

Something in his smile made Link’s skin crawl. Maybe it was the way his tone was layered, or the way Reed’s grip had clenched so tightly on the reins of his horse. It didn’t matter, and he cast the thought out of his mind soon after. He already had too much to think about.

Or rather, he had too many things to focus on ignoring.

_‘You brood too much.’_ Urbosa had told him. 

At least he didn’t pout in a tent anymore. 

  


* * *

  


Rain splattered against the roof of the stable. Zelda lingered in it: her hands cupped and catching water. When she spied Link giving her a questioning look, the princess smiled sheepishly.

“Humor me, will you? It’s the first time we’ve seen rain in over a month,” she explained from beneath the shadow of her hood. Water dripping off the edge. “...I’ve missed it.”

Link walked out to join her. They stared at the thunderheads rolling overhead in silence. Wind picked up, the rushing air warmer than he thought it’d be. Leaves tumbled past their heels- tips colored yellow and brown with the earliest signs of Fall, and it wasn’t until lightning snapped across the sky that he carefully took Zelda’s hand and led her back inside.

Reed's tall frame was easy to spot. He appeared busy talking with a group of five men as the two of them stole an unattended table. One of them was clearly the stable owner, pointing to an open space at the side of the building. Instruments lay strewn at the group's feet. Other traveling musicians, he'd bet- long time acquaintances of Reed’s.

Whatever they were talking about, he couldn't hear over the chatter of other guests flitting in and out of sight. It was one of the few fragments of old Hyrule that always stuck out to him in his memories: the ever-present commotion. The stables were certainly larger and livelier before they were all burnt down and rebuilt by the few remaining, with most even sporting a second floor or a kitchen and bar. Being so close to Central Hyrule made that stable busier than most, to boot. Crowds played cards at their tables- others lingered in darker corners. Despite it all, most people minded their own business. Link suspected few even noticed the girl and her royal crest munching on a piece of cake.

She watched Link intently as he fiddled with the leather strap attached to his sword’s scabbard. She did that often- observing his movements almost like she was trying to memorize something. At one point, the princess told him the way he moved was unusual. Quick and calculating. A squirrel was what she compared him to. He certainly didn't appreciate it, and some time passed before he figured out it was her way of telling him to relax- but naturally, he wasn’t about to explain to Zelda that having her eyes trained on him at all times made it impossible to do exactly that.

Green darted away as a shadow swept over them. Reed with a wide smile on his face. His hair was still a mess from their travels and his scarf a little dirty and torn and singed. Still, it was lovingly wrapped around his neck despite the smell it must have emitted. He was an unusual Sheikah, but Sheikah nonetheless.

Though, looking at him with that bright grin, it didn’t occur to Link how young he was. No older than twenty? The man talked more than Zelda ever did during their short trip, yet there was one piece of information he found interesting: Reed knew how to play each and every one of the instruments he toted around with him, and spent his time writing his own music when he didn't have his hands on a set of strings. Link had a hard time believing someone that young was so musically talented.

Then again, anyone could say that about himself. And they had. Plenty of times.

“Thank you again for your help,” Reed bowed for what seemed like the thirtieth time. “I would not have seen my friends without you.”

“Are you all musicians?” Zelda inquired, miming some sort of lute. “I see they’re carrying cases of their own.”

A nod. A bit of excitement there. “Yes, Your Highness. This is the last I will see of them for some time after I depart for the castle... We resolved to play together at least once before we part ways.”

“That’s wonderful,” she said. “...It’s a shame, though. Goodbyes are always so difficult.”

Reed held up a fiddle and looked at it with a peculiar fondness. The instrument was normal, although the bow itself was pale- almost as pale as his hair. Link was tempted to reach out and take it just to get a closer look, but managed to keep his hands to himself. What was the other thing Zelda had teased him about? _Sticky fingers?_

“That is true, Your Highness. However, we hope for this to be a celebration rather than a goodbye.”

With those mysterious words, Reed wished for them to enjoy the performance and skipped off to his troupe.

Most of the stable’s visitors must have known there would be a performance by the way the chatter dissolved into an expectant silence. An announcement was made by the stable owner, drinks raised, and the group spread out against the wall of the stable.

Reed stood in the middle of his troupe. He had struck Link as an over-thinker, yet the passive look on his face suggested his mind was empty despite the weight of the room's focus on him. Calm. With a breath and the raise of his hand, the music kicked off.

There was the patter of drums first, building gradually into a steady rhythm. Strings came next: a heavy undercurrent offset by the airy tone of flutes. The volume grew powerful enough to rival the blare of Hyrule Castle’s marching band- even drowning out the thunder roiling outside, its tempo quick and sharp. The people around them clapped or stomping their feet, floorboards shaking against the force of it.

It left him a little dumfounded, sitting there listening and feeling. He finally understood what it was that drew his own father to taverns so often; it was nothing like the rows of perfectly lined horns in the town square. The pristine flags. The chaos suited his father too well for him to go anywhere else.

Link didn’t think it was a stretch to call it a frenzy. It reminded him of that day in the colosseum, the flurry of music just before that clash of swords and armor. Except, it wasn't soldiers meeting in the middle this time.

There was no question plenty of people had been traveling the entire day, but they somehow had energy left to run around in the center of the stable, dancing and spinning each other around. A mug spilled on the floor. Several stumbled over it, laughing and uncaring.

His mouth twitched into a grin before he returned his focus to adjusting his sword's leather strap- the performance settling into the back of his mind. Zelda moved. He lifted his head expecting her to have her nose buried in the Slate, but there was no blue glow lighting up her eyes. She sat ramrod straight: transfixed by the barely controlled chaos in front of them.

It was the same for her, wasn't it? Only ever exposed to stiff ballroom dances- delicate and lazy music and terrible small talk. Compared to that, it was night and day.

Her jaw rolled. Lips pressed into a thin line. He’d seen that look plenty of times. She wanted to do or say something, yet didn’t have the courage for it. Sensing a little danger, Link continued to pointlessly fiddle with that baldric and hope it didn't make him a target. It didn't work. He barely managed to look away before her voice weathered through the noise:

“Do you know how to dance?”

His eyes flicked from her to the crowd. 

“No,” he lied.

Her mouth formed into a silent _‘oh’._ Zelda stared down at her hands fisted in her lap. After several deep breaths, her head snapped up again. 

“Would- Would you like me to teach you?!”

The force of her question made his eyes go wide, and horror gripped her. A red face. Zelda lowered her face a second time, hiding her embarrassment from the torchlight. Even so, he could see a deep frown- the troubled knit of her forehead.

The princess of all of Hyrule looked _dejected._

He looked to the people, and then back to Zelda, and then again at the people-

She slumped in her chair with a sigh, and his control snapped in two.

If it weren’t for the fact that they were in public, Link would have thrown his head back and shouted a curse- namely at the dawning realization he might be incapable of refusing any of her requests. A second later and he was putting his sword against the wall, turning to Zelda, and saying: 

“Do you want to try, Your Highness?”

She was slow to react. Thunderstruck and somehow shocked she'd gotten her way. Really, she looked like a child who was just told they were allowed to take as many cookies from the jar as they wanted.

When it set in, it was faster than he could track. Zelda bolted upright, discarded her hood, and grabbed his wrist. Past discarded mugs and past clapping hands, and they were already in motion by the time they reached the floor: the princess sweeping him in a wide arc that nearly made him stumble. There was no hiding from her that he actually knew how to dance; the both of them were forced to put some effort into navigating the disorder.

It was like ballroom dancing, albeit any and all rules were tossed to the wind in favor of whatever felt natural.

Admittedly, the thought of standing so close to her had made Link nervous. He expected the needles and the nails as always, but Zelda’s smile did something to keep them at bay that night. Hands wrapped around his, fingers interlacing, and he just about forgot his own name.

It all seemed too cliché to him. 

He suddenly couldn’t help himself though- he chose to blame the music. Blame Reed. The dreary rain.

Her hair was like a ribbon whenever she spun: coiling around her shoulders, and he found himself tossing her into the air. She laughed, breathless. When her feet touched the ground again she purposely fell back, forcing him to catch her inches before she hit the floor. An arm flew out into a dramatic pose. It was stupid, and it shouldn't have been funny, but he laughed at the ceiling anyway.

Zelda must have taken note, because she made a point of skipping or posing dumbly from that point forth. Unfortunately, it worked every time to the point that he was sore from trying to keep his mouth shut. They nearly ran into several people during their antics- too distracted by each other to pay proper attention to their surroundings. All of it shouldn’t have been nearly as enjoyable as it was, but something in the moment had unraveled all his inhibitions, including her own.

The music ended abruptly as the princess was dipping low to the floor again. It was so sudden it left him frozen: doing nothing but supporting her with his arm when she just laid limp- chin tipped back as she cackled in a way that reminded him too much of Purah. He hesitated to pull her to her feet.

When he finally did, Zelda was the first to untangled herself from him.

The princess collapsed into her chair. He slumped across from her, staring at the roof. For a moment, he wasn’t sure if the last ten minutes had even happened.

A bit of dread finally wormed its way into his gut. Link felt as though he’d crossed a line he couldn’t uncross. And, maybe he should have been frightened by what he'd done, but whatever emotion he was drunk on wouldn’t allow it as he watched Zelda fan herself. Loose strands at her cheeks. Flushed cheeks. He almost opened his mouth to say something incredibly foolish- something like _'you're pretty'_ or _'Can we do that again?'- but Reed appeared just in time._

__

__

“I’m happy to see you enjoyed yourself, Your Highness.” The words sounded a mite forced.

Her chair scraped as she clambered to her feet. “I’d never heard anything like it! It was amazing- I wish I could hear you play again.”

Reed was visibly touched by her praise. “I am relieved to hear that, Your Highness. It was a piece of my own composition you see.” He puffed his chest out. A prideful bird. “I am also happy that I can guarantee you will be able to attend one of my performances again.”

Her eyes turned bright and curious.

The Sheikah’s confidence wilted. He wrung his hands together, a little awkward. “I'm sorry for not telling you until now, but I have been invited to the capital by His Majesty to become your court poet.”

Link did not like that.

But apparently, Zelda did.

“That’s incredible, Reed!” her voice was sickeningly sweet- yet it wasn’t fake. “Your music is so much more lively than what we have- I hope that you bring more cheer to our ballrooms.”

He bowed. “It's been an honor to play for such a lovely princess,” he said. “I look forward to serving you when your travels are finished and you are no longer in need of an escort.”

Link squinted his eyes at that. He was tempted to escort Reed back to the river he’d crawled out of.

Zelda’s demeanor changed ever so slightly at that as well, her smile falling almost imperceptibly.

“...Yes, that day will come, won’t it?”

The thought made his stomach churn for more reasons than one.

  


* * *

  


All the festivities did well to exhaust that stable’s occupants. Only a few stragglers remained on the first floor as many retreated to their rooms- the clock nearly approaching midnight by that point. 

Link kept his window open: listening intently to the symphony of crickets. He was stuck somewhere between a lingering euphoria or dread, and untangling all the knots in his head was taking more time than he’d hoped.

He’d been an entirely different person during that dance. Or, he’d acted like himself for the first time in a year. Maybe three. In front of her, for the first time. It made him feel too vulnerable.

He was going to be up the whole night, wasn't he?

The rain had settled, the wind calmed, and fireflies pulsed in the night before he realized he wasn’t the only one restless from his thoughts.

A floorboard creaked. Then another. It was passing by his room- the sound faint yet distinct to his ears. Somewhere along the way, he’d learned to pick out Zelda’s footsteps from anyone else’s. They were almost as quiet as his, but more cautious- mindful, even.

Link stood and paced briskly across the room to open his door. It was just in time for him to watch her vanish around the corner of the stairs, the glow of a lantern following after her. He, too, followed suit like a moth to flame.

The princess wandered passed the kitchens, the horses, and out into the woods. It wasn't far when she stopped- just deep enough in the brush to obscure the sight of her. She set her lantern down on a flat rock as she nestled alongside it, bringing her knees to her chest. There didn’t seem to be a purpose to that little outing of hers. No flowers, bugs, or little trinkets to collect.

She merely stared out into the dark treeline, tracing the patterns of distant nightshades and silent shrooms.

“I figured you’d be here,” she greeted him without even turning to look.

“You said you wouldn’t run away anymore,” he crossed his arms, displeased.

The girl shook her head, a tremor of amusement in her voice. “You think this is me running? I’m just a stone’s throw away, Link.”

Her hand grazed the area next to her, inviting him to sit. Yesterday, he would have refused, but now- well, he was already walking toward her.

“I had fun, today.” Zelda whispered once he settled down. “Thank you for humoring me.”

Humoring her. It sounded like she thought he was tolerating her more than anything else.

She made a content noise as she watched the nightshades. Droplets of rain still clung to those petals: threatening to drip from their edges.

It caught him off guard when she explained to him what was on her mind.

“You know, for the longest time I couldn’t decide what color fabric to use for our Champion’s symbols.” Zelda leaned forward a bit to look at Link’s face, reflecting on whatever decision she’d made. “But when I was told you would be one of them- the first thought that occurred to me was that it should be the color of your eyes.”

The words were said so factually and bluntly that for a moment, he wasn’t sure he heard her right.

“...Why?” He was at a loss. He didn’t understand-

“Because they calm me. That was the purpose of Hyrule’s Champions, wasn’t it? To put people at ease... I thought it was fitting.”

His mouth opened and shut. It was so quiet, he wondered if she could also hear his heart hammering away in his chest.

“Why are you telling me this, Your Highness?”

“Because I have come to the understanding that I have to say outrageous things to get a good look at you. That’s all.” Her head tilted. “Did you have fun? Dancing with me?” 

That was it, was it? Zelda wasn’t giving him any moment to collect himself, and he was certain it was a calculated move based on the way she was searching his face so intently. Barging her way into his head like that- it was a little cruel of her, he thought.

“Yes, Your Highness,” he said, hoarse.

“Then why did you lie? Telling me you didn’t know how.”

“It made me nervous. I didn’t know if it was against etiquette.”

 _“Etiquette.”_ Zelda repeated, sounding out the t’s in that word. Harsh- resentful. “Tell me the truth, did what I say make you uncomfortable?”

“Which _part?”_

She finally turned away, and Link nearly sighed with relief.

“What I said at the lake. Did it seem unthinkable to you?” 

He kept his sights on the canopy above. “That I’m better than you, somehow?”

“That we could be equals,” she clarified. “Friends.”

He wouldn’t answer. Not before he demanded one of his own:

“Why is that so important to you?”

“Because I don’t like it.” Her chin rested on her knees, her fingers threading across her boots. “Even Urbosa often refers to me as _‘Your Highness’._ Is it strange of me to want there to be at least one person who isn’t afraid to call me by name...? Someone besides my father, who only uses it to speak down to me.

“So you’re using the Goddess as an excuse to close the gap between us.”

“My father uses the Goddess as an excuse for many things _worse_ than that, Link.” Her rebuttal had a sharp edge- a tangible bitterness. That sudden anger grew, leaving him taken aback as she continued, “Even if I were to ask you not to be afraid to walk near me, that would be too much, wouldn’t it? The etiquette of a _knight_ couldn’t _possibly_ allow it.”

She went on without pause, “We are alone in this journey. We may be stuck with each other for years to come, but I already recognize the sound of your _footsteps._ I know which foods you prefer the most. I know you tap at your sword when you’re anxious. I know you hesitate to answer your father’s letters, and I know you have nightmares that quietly startle you awake each and every night.”

He’d never told her any of that- shown her any of that. It made him feel vulnerable again. Like he'd slipped on a wet floor.

 _‘Mark my words, she’s more intuitive than you give her credit for._ Don’t _underestimate her or you’ll regret it.’_

Revali had warned him so clearly, but he'd been so focused on keeping only one secret that he’d accidentally revealed a thousand others. He didn’t know which was the lesser evil.

Zelda ran her hands over her face, seemingly just as frustrated by her own knowledge as he was. “All these things! I already know you better than my own family, and yet I’m supposed to treat you as a stranger for the next two, three, four years? I’m tired of distancing myself from everyone around me just because it’s what etiquette calls for.”

 _It’s_ lonely, _being around you,_ she said.

That stung.

“...I’m sorry,” he managed.

“It’s not your fault,” she amended miserably. “I ask too much of everyone around me.”

He would argue that everyone around Zelda asked too much of her.

Regardless, Link was tired. Tired of the theatrics. Didn’t he tell himself it was all too dramatic for him? Didn’t he tell himself he would tear down that awful version of him in her head? And yet, there he was: feeding into it relentlessly. Zelda may have been the one speaking out against it the most, but she was approaching the situation with more reason than he ever had.

That dynamic didn't make sense. None of it made sense. Princesses weren't supposed to be the sensible ones.

His abrupt, spiteful laughter must have surprised her. “I know plenty of people who would kill me for saying this, but I agree with your logic.”

The rock was cool beneath his hand, the surface rough like his voice when he leaned toward her. “You want me to be _honest?_ I do think etiquette is stupid. I think your father rants too much about things he doesn’t understand.”

Her mouth was agape.

“There’s mud still on your face from that damn log, and I haven’t bothered to tell you all day because I thought it was funny.”

He also thought it was charming, but there was a limit to just how much he was going to admit that night.

Zelda’s hands shot to her face. Was that last sentence really what shocked her? “What?! Where is it?”

“Let’s make a deal,” he said, changing the subject despite her protests. “I won’t bother to be formal around you as long as you never assume you’re worth less than me again.”

The embarrassment evaporated. Her hands lowered, face twitching as she tried to veil her expression. He’d hit a raw nerve: something that had bothered her more than she wanted him to know. Link thought it was only fair- there were plenty of things he knew about Zelda that she didn’t want him to know, too.

“I told you I hated people putting me on a pedestal, and the last person I want doing that is you. Don’t put yourself down. You deserve better than that.” He paused. He’d run out of words. “...That’s all I had.”

With that, the both of them were staring out into the forest, stunned at each other's behavior. A frog croaked somewhere. 

“...I’ll take it,” Zelda mumbled. “I’ll accept those terms.”

“Good,” he snapped before he could catch himself. His blood went cold as the severity of everything he'd said came crashing down on him. “I probably offended-”

“Goodness, no.” Zelda waved her hand, swatting away whatever apology he was about to give. “I think I _like_ being scolded by you. It's refreshing.”

She started to tinker with the handle of her lantern. It squeaked as she flipped it around, lips pursed and contemplative. “This... might be presumptuous of me, but it sounds like you have a lot on your mind. I used to do the same until I realized how much of a relief it was to say what was bothering me. To a select few, of course.”

He remembered the colosseum: the scowl that was plastered on her face when she stood in front of him. It’d been funny, really; at twelve, Hinoxes didn't intimidate him, but an angry girl did?

Unfortunately, Zelda was staring at him with that same expression when he turned. It nearly made him flinch off their rock.

“I looked like this, didn’t I?” she kept her mouth tugged into a tight frown- eyes narrowed into slits.

Somehow, she pulled off the intimidation factor better when she was eleven.

Zelda’s face relaxed along with the rest of her; she extended her legs and swayed her head in as she spoke, “When I say I want you to speak casually to me, I mean I want you to continue to be honest, as well, in that regard. I think we both can agree the Goddess has put a lot of responsibility on us. The least She can do is let us complain about it, don’t you think? It's the least I can do... after everything.”

Link crossed his arms, pretending he hadn't already made up his mind. She squirmed. Anxious. It made him smile and laugh under his breath. “Do you realize how weird it is for the princess of Hyrule to ask me to complain about _guarding_ her?”

That earned a grin.

“Do you realize how strange it is to ask Hylia’s Champion to complain to me about guarding me?”

_...Touché._

“Wait, you changed the terms of our deal.”

“Oh, you’re _complaining?”_ she teased. “Well, that’s wonderful. It sounds like you’ve already agreed to it!”

He wanted to elbow her for that.

Before he could retort, Zelda got to her feet, smoothing out her clothes. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I heard a frog just a moment ago and I intend to find it.”

She trudged away from him, waddling through the bushes like some sort of duck.

Link should’ve seen that coming.

“Your- Zelda!" he stammered, leaping after her. "Don’t run off, I’ll help!”

  
  



	10. The Golden Rule

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. This is our last detour before we are on to Death Mountain!  
> 2\. Zelda's gotten a lot of development for the last few chapters so I wanted to take a moment to step back and redirect the spy glass to Link for a bit, so to speak

“In a real sense, the kingdom of Hyrule met its doom here.”

Even through the misty skies he could see red lights blinking: the rain muffling out the steady thrum of engines overhead. Cobblestone was slick beneath his feet. Nell did not try to hide his face from the rain: merely staring up at the citadel next to Link.

It was his kin who died there, he said. Curiosity was what brought him to that crumbling structure; and still tempted him to make the dangerous ascent to that fortress’ apex.

Nell crossed his arms, rusty armor scraping in protest against the movement. He turned to Link as his breath fogged alongside a warning:

“You don’t look reckless enough to chance it, but be on your guard in these hills all the same.”

The man was smart not to try his own hand at exploring that citadel, although he didn’t seem to be a very good judge of character. He must have realized that when Link nodded, waved, and then proceeded to leap off that broken bridge.

The tower was what he wanted: one of the many pillars bearing the weight of Hyrule’s sky. He sent a guardian tumbling into the ravine below with ease; and before he vanished around the corner of those snaking stairs, Link glanced back at the man. 

Nell was watching him go. His mouth tilted as his eyebrows raised in a look that could only have been exasperation. He probably thought Link was another young idot ignoring the warnings of his elders. Maybe he was right. Even at nearly one hundred and twenty, he was still young, wasn’t he?

He blinked, and suddenly it was Terry standing there, observing his reckless behavior from a distance as always.

A gust of freezing wind lifted Link’s cloak from his shoulders. Dense mist tumbled between them. By the time it dissipated, Terry’s ghost was no more: replaced by Nell’s back as he left, unwilling to bear witness to Link’s potential self-destruction.

It wasn’t just the Champions who'd suddenly begun to haunt him more than ever in recent months- suddenly tug at the cords of a heart that had atrophied from one hundred years of disuse. Terry's visage lingered in the gaps between autumn leaves; and, whenever he caught scent of the ocean, he could feel Balder’s hand on his shoulder, leaving behind an ache he had yet to fully understand.

When Link’s own hand trailed over the chilled iron of a long-neglected cannon, it occurred to him that he’d never visited Akkala Citadel as a soldier. It was alongside Zelda as a Champion- on a far sunnier day and a far warmer night. 

  


* * *

  


“Get- get hera...” 

It was just past the Wetlands that Zelda and Link were standing at a crossroads, the princess struggling to read the words of a letter the mail carrier dropped off not two minutes ago.

She made a frustrated noise and waved the paper at Link. “Goodness, what do you think this says?”

He moved close, staring over her shoulder. 

It was… illegible.

“This is Purah’s handwriting without a doubt,” she snipped. “It’s burnt, too, isn’t it? What is she doing trying to write a letter next to _lava?”_

At the very least, Purah must have been aware of how awful her letter was, because she kindly included the drawings at the bottom. Link couldn’t have even begun to understand how the woman was able to create immaculate diagrams but have all the penmanship of a Bokoblin with a stolen paintbrush.

“Harpoons?” he questioned.

“What would she want with… harpoons?”

They both scratched their heads.

“That’s Akkala Citadel.”

“Oh,” Zelda tilted her head. “You recognize it?”

“I passed by a while back.”

She counted the harpoons. “Ten?” Zelda realized something. “Is she… telling us to run an errand for her?”

They stared at each other. 

“How are we supposed to get them?” Link pointed out. As far as he could tell, there weren’t any other hints left on that charred paper. If there were, they'd been burnt to a crisp.

Zelda crumpled the paper, obviously coming to the same conclusion. “Well, you are Hylia’s Champion, and I am the princess of Hyrule. I imagine if the two of us walked up and asked for them, their general... might agree?”

“What would we tell them?”

“The truth, I suppose.”

“Right,” he crossed his arms and sent her a doubtful look. “We’ll tell them we’re delivering harpoons to a mad scientist known for destroying half of Kolomo.”

During the ten months leading up to the Champions’ ceremonies, Purah made a name for herself by lining up seventy-five guardians and shooting them all off at once in the same direction. Unfortunately, their aim was off. As a result, Kolomo Garrison wound up a pile of smoke and rubble; and over thirty new safety regulations were introduced by King Rhoam the next day.

How Purah still had a job, let alone funding, was completely beyond Link.

Luckily, the guards and squires had been out training. They still didn’t hesitate to spread word of the horrifying incident, and he wondered if Purah was even aware she’d become some sort of boogeyman to all the soldiers of Hyrule.

Most likely she did, considering that she’d chosen both the princess and Hylia’s Champion to discreetly pry weapons out of Akkala’s hands.

Zelda’s mouth opened as the memory came to her. She cleared her throat. “We will tell them it is Impa’s request.”

They both nodded sharply: it was a good plan. He severely doubted whatever Purah was going to do with those weapons abided by Rhoam’s new safety standards. However, if there was anything Link appreciated it was wanton destruction and chaos; two forces which were somehow embodied in one frighteningly tall Sheikah woman.

With that they continued on, their horses following dutifully after them.

“It’s a day’s travel from the Foothill Stables. We’re about half a day out from there. So, I suppose this detour will be two or three days if we’re slow? We may have to stay the night at that citadel if they’ll allow it.” Zelda’s face was hidden behind a large map as she rambled on, stumbling over the rocks along their dirt path.

Link had half a mind to snatch it from the girl and tell her to watch the road. What if she sprained her ankle? Got a scrape? Embarrassment surged the moment he realized how ridiculous those thoughts were. What was _wrong_ with him?

The princess suddenly stopped, blinking. “Do you hear that?”

It sounded like clashing metal: a scuffle on the other side of the hill. 

When the two of them marched to the top of the road and peered down, there was a wagon half submerged in a cloud of dust as knights fended off a group of Lizalfos hopping around them. 

Link gestured for her to wait before taking off towards the skirmish. There were seven Lizalfos remaining and two guards. He lazily unsheathed his sword, skidded into the middle, and spun on his heel. 

The move took out five as the last two were handled by the other guards.

He waved away the mist, resisting the urge to cough from the foul odor. Link turned as it cleared, coming face to face with a Lurelin man. The two of them froze. Recognition came over them almost immediately.

Balder pointed, shouting, “It’s the brat!”

One guard poked his head from behind the wagon. His helmet fell, revealing a freckled face as it smacked the dirt. “Kiddo!”

Suddenly, two separate hands were on his head, jerking him around as they ruffled his hair. Terry and Balder; the two always seemed to come in a package deal.

Link swatted them away just in time for Zelda to sneak up behind them. She raised a hand. “Hello, there.”

The two men startled, and nearly hit each other when they bowed their heads. “Your Highness!” 

They’d forgotten he and Zelda also came in a package deal.

The princess glanced at Link. She gestured to her hair with a grimace, and he blew it out of his face to make a pathetic attempt at smoothing it out.

“Terry and Balder?” she questioned. It was surprising to hear she remembered the two of them; how she knew their names was even stranger. The girl must have been paying more attention to the announcements back then than he initially thought.

“Yes, Your Highness,” Terry confirmed. 

Zelda cocked her head as she smiled. “I am pleased to see you have kept your emblems.”

The medals won from the tourney five long years ago: a little roughed up but still shining nonetheless. Although Link didn’t wear his, it was safely tucked away in his bag along with all the other keepsakes he’d collected- or stolen- over the years.

Something reflected light from the cart when she moved, and Link noticed there was metallic cargo sitting in the back of their wagon. Harpoons. Bundles of them sat gleaming in the sunlight. Zelda looked at them like they were a treasure chest of gems.

“Gimme your harpoons,” Link kindly requested, hands on his hips.

“Huh?” Balder glanced over his shoulder, concerned. 

“We’d like your harpoons,” Zelda echoed his request, and the two men were snapping their heads back and forth: bewildered.

“...Why?” Terry managed. 

“Because,” he offered.

“Because we need them,” Zelda elaborated- just barely.

The redhead couldn’t decide which teenager to stare at incredulously. Eventually, he settled on the princess; she seemed more capable of communication. “With all due respect, Your Highness, is this a robbery?”

“It doesn’t have to be,” Link stated.

Balder waved his halberd at him. “What are you, seventeen?! Are you ever going to learn manners? Do you think we raised you to be a roadside bandit?”

He was losing count of the people in his life who spent their time scolding him to no avail. Where they found the energy to keep trying, he certainly didn’t know.

Zelda had a very innocent look on her face, but her tone was a little sinister. “Of _course_ it isn’t a robbery. We have been tasked with running an errand on our way to Vah Rudania, is all. You happen to have what we are looking for.”

Balder was still nagging Link in the background, so it was Terry who engaged in the negotiations. 

“I apologize, but these are going to the citadel, Your Highness. If you would like, we can escort you there and request that several be given to you for your help?”

She sighed, disappointed that they still had to make that detour. “That will be fine, thank you. It was our original plan, after all.”

The princess looked between all three of them and put her hands on her hips, content about something. “Perhaps it is a blessing in disguise. You will be able to spend time together, at least.”

Link couldn’t find it in him to disagree and by their silence, neither did the other two. 

Stopping by Foothill Stables would have taken an extra six hours of travel, thus Zelda insisted that they remain on the road to Akkala to camp for a night. Terry protested, but Link merely put a hand on his shoulder and shook his head.

There was no point arguing with her.

Balder was staring at him from across the campfire. “Did you grow again? I swear, we all thought you’d stay four feet tall.”

“I haven’t been that short for three years,” Link muttered.

“Wow,” Terry was marveling. “He’s your height now, isn’t that something?”

“Can you stop?” He cut the two of them off as Zelda’s snickering grew too loud to ignore.

Her hand fell from her mouth a moment after. “Seventeen?” she murmured, “I thought you were sixteen, Link.”

“My birthday was in August, Your Highness.”

She looked offended. “That was a month ago! Why didn’t you tell me? I would have… given you a- a bug, or something!”

“We were busy fighting a sand whale, Your Highness. It slipped my mind.”

“It was on that day?!” Her hands flew to her face. “Oh my goodness, I ruined it!”

That day was memorable enough- nightmarish, even. He remembered every detail clearly. Zelda screaming in fury, crying in grief: framed by the black expanse below Vah Naboris as she suffocated beneath the weight of her dead mother.

Link went quiet. He didn’t blame her at all, but he didn’t know how to assuage her guilt.

The both of them were staring into the fire, stiff at the mere mention of that day. He could barely see Zelda’s face while she peered between her fingers, but the way she fixated on those flames told him she was doing her best not to look at him. He didn’t know what emotion fueled that behavior, and it frustrated him.

She often did that: covering her expression. Deliberately using her hands to hide something she didn’t want Link to see.

The tension was thick enough that even Balder shrunk beneath his helmet, exchanging a look with Terry.

“...I have to ask,” Terry coughed out, hoping to expel some of the strange atmosphere, “what was that about a sand whale?”

“Molduga,” Link and Zelda said at the same time: both of them snapping out of their trance at once.

He quickly bowed his head, apologizing for speaking over the princess. 

(They’d quickly agreed it was best to keep up a respectful appearance when they weren’t alone- something which he was far better at than the princess. They were lucky; her reputation for being friendly to her subjects turned out to be surprisingly convenient for the two of them. Zelda’s father was less of a fan of her behavior, of course. But nearly seventeen years and counting indicated she’d never learn, just as it was hopeless for Link to comprehend those mysterious manners Balder spoke of.)

“Urbosa shot it with Naboris,” the princess explained. “The blast created a hole in the desert. It was quite something.”

“And where were you two during this?” Terry was eyeing Link suspiciously.

The princess answered for him. “Trapped on a pillar. If it weren’t for the Gerudo warriors we certainly would have been eaten. Urbosa’s lightning saved us from another attack, as well.”

“From what, Your Highness?”

She opened her mouth, but stopped short. She swallowed. “...From- from the Molduga.”

There was more silence.

“That’s cool,” Balder chirped and elbowed his partner. “Maybe we should take a trip to the desert?”

Terry didn’t seem as eager. _“You_ can go. I think I prefer the North.”

Link shrugged. “The Molduga was fun.”

“For _you_ maybe. Hylia, you’re weird.” 

  


* * *

  


It was nearly evening by the time they made it to Akkala Citadel. Its white stone gleamed in daylight. Banners larger than any he’d seen drifted high upon the fortress, and even from a distance, their symbol was clear as day: just as it was on the tourney’s squires. A red tongue, sharp claws, and blackened feathers.

While they stood blanketed by those flags’ rippling shadows, Zelda quoted their first conversation with flawless wording:

“I thought… Akkala’s mascot is ugly.”

He sent a good natured scowl her way. It prompted a toothy grin to spread over her face.

There were rows of soldiers staring down at them from the ramparts- several of them likely recognizing the two gold and blue splattered Hylians below. As a result, it was mere seconds before a horn blared, and the gates opened. Chains rattled; cobblestone shook beneath their feet.

Several knights appeared to take away their wagon and horses before Terry waved for them to follow. The four of them began their ascent as that metal gate slammed shut behind them.

Men along the stairway moved against the wall to bow as Zelda drifted past. Several were brave though to glance up at her. Most had never seen the princess before- let alone Hylia’s Champion, and despite their interest, they were quick to avert their gaze whenever their eyes met Link’s.

They weren’t bowing just to Zelda.

The knowledge made him uncomfortable. It reminded him why his first year as the sword’s bearer stole away all his words: replacing them with paranoia and anxiety- a feeling he’d nearly forgotten during his time away from the castle. All of Hyrule’s eyes wouldn’t meet his own, but they were glued to him all the same.

When he looked back at Terry and Balder, even they appeared unsettled. Both had a hard time seeing him as anything other than the grimy kid they met five years ago, after all. The reality of it must have bothered them as much as it did Link, and he was left with the fear that it would take root within them; it would change the way they interacted with him.

He suddenly understood the discomfort Zelda spoke of at the Wetland Stables- the loneliness of it all.

Link resolved to leave Akkala Citadel as quickly as possible.

The general’s residence was located at the very top of the fortress. Word of their arrival must have reached him fast, because they were stopped at the final stairway leading up to it.

An older man stood there: a collection of reflective medals adorning this armor’s breastplate. Marks of honor. He was battleworn, experienced. Link recognized him as a duke: a distant uncle of Zelda’s on her father’s side. The man was imposing, and he could barely see his mouth move beneath a beard reminiscent of Daruk’s.

“If I had known my lovely niece would be visiting, I would have prepared a much warmer welcome,” he crowed. Despite being far older than her, he bowed deep- adornments clinking.

“I apologize for the short notice.” Zelda brought her hands to her chest, most likely intertwining her fingers in a pacifying manner. “We were nearby, and Lady Impa requested we stop to ask a favor of you.”

An eyebrow raised. “That sounds like a task better suited to soldiers, no?”

“I wanted to see our grand fortress as well.” The princess was an adept liar, snuffing out any potential conflict before it even began. “I heard my mother often visited here, you see. I confess my curiosity got the better of me.”

There was a nostalgic glimmer in his eye. A little pride, even.

“Of course!” he chuckled. “Come, we were just preparing for our evening meals. We will discuss this favor of yours over dinner.”

He extended his hand, finally inviting Zelda to make her way up the stairs. Link remained where he was: reading the duke’s mind before he even spoke down to him.

“I imagine you two have spent more than enough time in each other’s company. You should visit your fellow knights in the dining hall below.”

He bowed, retreating to the safety of Balder and Terry’s company.

Balder patted his shoulder when all the knights scattered to resume their duties. 

“Scary old man, isn’t he?” he carped in a low voice. 

“He’s worse than Rhoam,” Terry grouched as he walked off. “Thank Hylia we don’t work here.”

Once again, Link couldn’t find it in him to disagree.

Akkala Citadel had a force of three hundred stationed within its walls at all times. It hardly even counted the transient deliveries, the passing merchants, or the training grounds far below.

Link thought the Wetland Stables were chaotic, but the soldiers’ dining hall set the bar far higher than he had ever imagined. Maybe half of the fortress was present that night; food was being thrown, a crowd in the far corner was engaging in fist fights, and someone somewhere was playing a tuba.

It was beautiful, he thought. Terry gave him a skittish look when he saw Link staring out into the crowd: wonderstruck. The man instructed him not to wander off- no doubt convinced that he’d join in the fighting or steal someone’s instrument if left unattended. It was justified, really.

Balder shouldered his way into the crowd to track down food, and the two of them stole what few seats remained. Plenty of guards took note of Link’s presence, but they seemed to be more concerned with their steak dinner than anything else.

For a while, their meal passed without incident. The two men asked him plenty of questions- demanding to know where he’d been, what he’d seen, or anything accompanying it. There were plenty of details Link filtered out. Sneaking into Gerudo town, how Revali had given him the new scar on his forehead, and, really, the entirety of what happened at the Wetland Stables.

Admittedly, it made his trip sound far less eventful. That fact made Terry suspicious, but he didn’t comment on it.

“How have you managed to keep track of her?” Balder interrogated him. “I saw the paper you sent your dad. He and his cronies wouldn’t stop laughing about it.”

“It was awful at first,” Link crossed his arms, thinking over it, “but I don’t think she’s run off in a month.”

Terry was coughing. “What’d you do?!”

He blinked. “Nothing, I guess.”

“You _guess?”_ Balder was leaning over the table. “Are you delusional, kid? You’ve moved mountains.”

Link shrugged. Zelda explained to him why she had no plans to run, yet once again it was a detail better left out. Unfortunately, Balder did not have Terry’s discretion when it came to minding his own business.

“I think you’re hiding something.”

Link shot back without batting an eye. “And I think you’re hiding something up your-” 

A finger tapped on his shoulder.

Slowly, Link turned, draping an elbow over the back of his chair. There was a young man staring back at him from his own table: no more than a year older than himself, he guessed. The boy had a crooked grin on his face that he would have considered to be friendly at a first glance; but what would come out of his mouth certainly wasn’t.

“Can I get your opinion on something?”

His curiosity piqued, Link humored him. “Sure.”

“My friends and I can’t agree on this,” he waved his hands as if the subject was of the utmost importance. “Does the princess look better in a skirt or pants?”

He was staring. For once, Link was speechless for a reason that had nothing to do with his title. The squire took his silence as hesitance and insisted:

“Don’t worry, things are the same here as the castle- what happens in the barracks stays in the barracks.”

The grand golden rule. Anything said, any chairs that were thrown, or incidents of any kind could happen and not a word of it would be spoken outside the barrack’s walls. It was a rule even he abided by. Maybe he fed into it with his silence, maybe he didn’t, but ultimately, he didn’t care.

Link had heard many things, seen many things: anything ranging from coarse language, or vulgar insults and suggestions. At thirteen, it was enough to make him turn red in the face and sprint out the doors, but he quickly grew numb to it. It was all just more noise to drown out. He wasn’t interested in hearing about a barmaid or a particularly rude noble- he’d rather spend his breaks sharpening whatever weapons were lying around. And so, he did.

Compared to the things he’d heard- the question presented to him was tame. Almost innocent.

Unfortunately, the boy in front of him just _kept_ talking. 

“I think it has to be the latter. She travels a lot right? She’s gotta be fit for a princess- and doesn’t look like she’s got a whole lot up top for a dress to work with.”

Link took a long drink from his mug. Balder had a hand over his face, muttering something to Terry as he stared wide-eyed and anticipative. Was the man shocked by his restraint?

It was a fair reaction. It wasn't what he was known for, after all; he'd been known as the feral brat terrorizing the ramparts, the hot headed kid getting in one fight after the other over the most trivial things all for the rush of it. Well, before the Sword, that is- an image to maintain. An example.

“She does travel,” Link agreed. His tone had enough finality to it to indicate that the subject should be dropped.

The squire went to protest, but one of his friends rolled his eyes and interrupted him, “Just drop it. What are you going to ask next? Whether she looks better in a _shirt_ or not?”

That was meant to be a rhetorical question; it was a placating comment to defuse the situation.

It irked Link, but he was willing to accept its purpose and return to his meal. He was a knight and a Champion, but he didn’t have some white, flowing cape. He was in charge of Zelda’s physical well-being, not her honor or anything stupid like that.

He said that much to Zelda didn’t he? He thought things like etiquette were pointless.

The young man laughed at the absurdity of that question. “We all know the answer to that,” he thumbed at Link as he continued, “I bet you’ve gotten a good look, huh? There’s no way you haven’t stolen a couple.”

However, plenty of good people had also influenced him in the last year. He might have thought etiquette was stupid, but that didn't mean he'd endorse the shirking of basic decency and respect, either. Therefore, he wasn't nearly as irritated by that squire's line of questioning as he was by the implication that Link himself was the same brand of impudent as the table of young men in front of him.

He very calmly put his mug back on the table.

Terry mouthed something- a warning maybe. He smiled at the man, assuring him everything was under control.

When he turned to the other boy, there was a crooked grin on face to match his as he lied: 

“You’re right,” Link waved his hand, gesturing for him to lean in. When he did, he whispered, “Seriously, you can’t tell anyone this.”

There was an eager nod.

Urbosa! She was a benevolent woman he’d met who taught him many, many things, wasn’t she? 

One of which was how to grab someone by the hair and yank them around until they screamed.

Thus, it wasn't until a tray was used to thoroughly beat five squires into submission that Link flinched away from a cloth: the formula stinging as Terry pressed it against a cut on his face. 

“This is the part where I comment that you haven’t changed a bit,” the man reprimanded him.

He frowned at that. “I didn’t do it for fun.”

 _‘It wasn’t like usual,’_ he was telling him. The words were enough to make Terry pause and think it over.

He apologized.

“That’s good of you. I take it back,” his mouth quirked into a smile. “Honestly, if you didn’t do something even I would have swung at that brat.”

“I think you ripped his hair out,” Balder mused, leaning against the wall of that empty hallway. “He’s got a bald spot. Looked like one of those chantry monks when he ran off.”

“Good,” Link hissed as Terry pressed the cloth to his face a second time. By the way pain radiated from his cheek, he knew it would bruise. Scab.

The Lurelin man smirked. “He got a lucky hit in, huh?”

He scrunched his nose at that comment. It received a mirthful chuckle from the both of them. Terry stood straight and folded up the bloody rag, moving his head to get a good look at him. He thought the man was inspecting the cut, but he must have been searching his face instead.

“You respect her, don’t you?” 

He couldn’t tell if that question was rhetorical or not. Regardless, he wouldn’t answer. Link glanced away.

He caught sight of gray eyes narrowing as he did, and braced himself for what Balder would certainly say next. The Lurelin was, after all, terrible at minding his own business. 

“Well, I think I know one of the things you’re hiding now.” 

Silence. Link covered his eyes with a hand, momentarily squeezing them shut. It was pointless to deny it; they'd already made up their minds for sure.

“Don’t bother lecturing me,” he said, praying fruitlessly that the rush of shame flaring up his neck wasn't as visible as it felt. “I know it’s stupid.”

Terry shook his head in a pitying way. “...I just feel sorry for you, Link.”

 _Hylia,_ that was worse than a lecture.

There was a heartbeat of quiet before the redhead shifted his weight awkwardly. “...I have to make sure- you two aren’t..?”

“No,” he refuted. “How do you think that’s even possible?”

She’d never feel the same way. That’s what he was saying, and it only resulted in the men exchanging another unidentifiable look. Both of them had a way of communicating Link had never been able to cue into, and their secrecy made him angry. There they were: dissecting the most embarrassing parts of him, yet they wouldn’t even speak their minds?

“What?”

Balder punched the space between his eyes, grumbling a curse under his breath before voicing what Terry wouldn't. “You should consider resigning.”

Harsh and demanding- that tone of his. It made Link flinch.

“I didn’t choose this,” he argued, taking a step forward. “I’ve never had a choice in any of this. You both know that.”

The king commanded it, and so it was- as with everything. He'd accepted it quietly, of course; yet it did take some considerable effort not to join the princess in her indignant fury over the matter.

 _'Don't you have something better to do?!'_ she'd hissed at him outside her room. A viper. _'Fight against this!'_

He hadn't. He couldn't. He didn't know how. He simply didn't have a will of is own in that castle... But _outside?_

When it became apparent he'd do nothing more than stare with hands behind his back, Zelda had slammed the door in his face- a gust of wind and a splinter flying over his shoulder.

“If it’s a request from you, I think the king would consider it,” Balder maintained, nodding his head in a confident manner. “We’d back you up. Tell him the forts need real help from you.”

They were liaisons: overseeing training and reporting on Hyrule’s militaristic wellbeing. As young as they were, their words had weight. As young as Link was, his presence had advantages the king couldn’t deny.

...It was possible if he wasn't alone in that request.

He could leave now: put it behind him. Leave her in peace.

The temptation sent guilt raking through him as he remembered everything he wouldn’t and couldn’t tell them. The oasis. Naboris. Zelda’s head against his chest. Nightshades and silent shrooms.

He was important to her, Urbosa had said. He had a responsibility, she claimed. It was unfair as always, but it went both ways. No one knew just how much he stole from Zelda. Link wasn’t even sure himself.

“Why? Do you think I’d try something?” he asked, insulted. He jabbed a finger towards the dining hall. “I’m not like that bastard.”

Terry’s face twisted. He paced. Balder was more stoic in the face of Link’s anger, never moving from his wall.

“We know. It’s just-” Terry stopped to veil his expression in a manner that convinced Link he was still hiding something. “It’s painful, isn’t it? Why go through it?”

“You need to let go, kid,” Balder agreed. “Before it’s too late.”

A warning five years too late, really.

His face stung. The bruise hurt. Yet it wasn’t enough to distract him from everything like he’d hoped.

Internal conflict was an acute weakness of his, and something Link discovered about himself was that when things became too much, he’d just laugh: the sound flat and caustic. The slightest questions could dredge it all up- the year he spent cramming down each and every fleeting emotion all for the sake of being spared of the king's wrath. Or what of the contradictions he felt finally being allowed to escape from so many of those prying eyes- yet stuck paying for that freedom by spending every moment with a girl he couldn't help but project onto if given the barest opportunity?

He didn't fight to leave her side because it was partially what he wanted wasn't it? An out. She was his ticket out of that castle and out from beneath her father's boot. He wanted her to be sent off on this pilgrimage all so he could use her as an escape; but he was foolish enough to think a pair of green eyes bore no more threat than the sword on his back. Without realizing it, he'd traded one lesser evil for a greater.

Terry took a step backwards, his brow furrowing with confusion. Even Balder flinched. It disturbed them, witnessing a completely new side of him like that. 

They’d never been able to see him as anything other than that grimy kid they met five years ago, after all- the world under his thumb.

They were looking at him like he was a stranger, and it hurt as badly as his cheek.

“It’s already too late,” he bit out. Link held up the scabbard in his hand to wave it in their faces, hoping it would distract them from the fragile tremor in his voice. _“It’s always too late.”_

Before they could speak, he strode off. He didn’t care that it was obvious he was running away. He’d had his fill of being dissected for that night.

  


* * *

  


It took hours for him to calm down. Link had found himself a dark room to simmer in- tucked between mops and brooms like some sort of dented bucket.

When the anger faded, it was replaced with regret. They were trying to help, he knew that. He resolved to apologize to them before he left, but only once his composure wasn’t in danger of crumbling like that again. 

He’d come dangerously close to embarrassing himself even further. There’d been an awful lump in his throat when he ran off, and he blamed Zelda for putting it there.

Hylia’s Champion throwing a fit over a girl? Absurd. Ridiculous. Pathetic. He was thumping the back of his head against a wall with every self-deprecating thought. Link was certain that was the part where Terry would call him a typical teenager, but it didn’t make it any less humiliating.

The palm of his hand grazed across the sword’s sheath. It was cool against his skin. He would stare down his nose at it, frowning. Somewhere along the way that sword had become a comfort- something which Link couldn’t wrap his mind around.

The door creaked when he opened it. Torchlight outside that room was bright, making him squint. There was a guard passing by, and the man slowed to give him a questioning look- but not for long. He scurried off the second Link sent him a vicious glare.

He watched him flee, satisfied that he hadn’t lost his touch. Without question, the Akkala soldiers would be telling stories about him by the end of his stay there, too.

There was a flash of yellow at the edge of his vision.

It was becoming a common occurrence: Link catching sight of Zelda as she vanished behind a corner. He blinked once. What was she doing near the soldier’s barracks? She should’ve been at Akkala Citadel’s peak. 

After a moment of hesitation, he followed after her.

She quietly slipped out a door into the open air, fingers grazing its wood surface. The princess was sneaking off again. Maybe inclined to explore the fortress under the cover of night with less eyes watching her?

For a moment, he thought she was heading back up to the duke’s residence, but she stopped at the base of the stairs, transfixed by something. The girl must have found what she was looking for, because she walked briskly past that flight of stairs, straight towards the courtyard of cannons and trees.

Link sat down on the stairs she’d abandoned, poking his head out to see whatever it was she was after.

There was a familiar head of red hair- tinged violet under the nighttime’s blue hue. He’d been busy staring at the trees rustling in the wind, and looked surprised when Zelda approached with a sheepish wave. There was a courteous bow from him before she spoke.

“Good evening.”

“What brings you here, Your Highness? It’s late.” He was suggesting she return to her quarters, but there was an inquisitorial layer to his tone that invited her to speak her mind. 

“I- I was hoping to find one of you.”

“...Are you looking for Link?”

She shook her head quickly, hair swaying. “I wanted to ask you about him, actually. If you don’t mind, of course. It’s perfectly fine if that makes you uncomfortable.”

That concerned Link. Eavesdropping was rude, but how could he ignore a conversation about himself?

Terry raised his eyebrows. Curiosity took complete hold of him as he stuck his halberd into the dirt and put a hand on his hip. “I’d be happy to, Your Highness.”

“Could you… give me your perspective on him?”

“In what way?”

“His personality,” she clarified. “I just want to make sure my perception of him isn’t completely biased. Does.. that make any sense?”

There was a pause. “It’s underhanded of me, isn’t it? It- it might be inappropriate of me to ask, as well.”

He couldn’t see Zelda’s face, but Terry’s was readable. He looked patient. Before she could apologize and back out, the man spoke:

“It is a little inappropriate, but I think it’s understandable, Your Highness. It’s strange to spend so much time with someone, yet know so little about them.” He was being surprisingly frank, admonishing her at the same time that he comforted her.

“Oh.” Zelda’s back straightened. “I’m surprised you were able to read my mind like that.”

There was a fond look on his face despite his cold response, “Most people who spend time with Link feel the same way you do.”

_‘It’s lonely, being around you.’_

The idea that there were more people who thought the same made him feel shameful.

Terry grumbled like an exhausted parent. “He’s a bundle of mystery. At least, that’s what he likes to think.”

He leaned towards her, griping even more. “He thinks all his problems are complicated, but that’s just because he assumes everything that doesn’t involve a club or stick is too much to handle.”

The princess was giggling. “That’s true, isn’t it?”

He waved his hand, flippant. “The kid means well. He runs from everybody thinking he’s doing them a favor... and I guess that’s why we wouldn’t leave him alone- he seemed lonely, even five years ago." There was a pause. A scrunched nose. "He’s a little scary at first, but he grows on you. Like some sort of stray cat.”

Her shoulders lowered at that. Was she pitying him?

“I think I’ve spent my life doing the same,” Zelda admitted. “Trying to save people the trouble of breaking code. It’s selfish of me but... I’ve grown weary of it.”

Not pity. Link was just a reflection in the mirror.

She was confessing a lot to him. Terry always did have that effect on people; it was the ability to disarm them or slip past their defenses. He never had any malicious intent, however; and Link was glad that if anyone had such a talent it was him.

“You want to be close with him?”

Her head dipped. “...I do. I know it’s wrong.” 

What was the point of her speech at the stables if she was still doubting that decision? It must have been the fortress, he thought. The moment he stepped foot beneath its gates he could feel himself regressing into old habits: silence, stoicism, fury, and fear of the people around him.

“Etiquette,” Terry crooned in thought. “The golden rule.”

“...Yes. That.” Zelda didn’t even want to say the word.

A mouth twisted as Terry looked away. He was stuck between a rock and a hard place. Telling her about Link would potentially push them closer, causing the boy unnecessary pain in his eyes. The man's gaze flicked back to the girl; and whatever was on her face made his expression soften. Denying such an innocent request? He was too kindhearted to do that.

They’d offered a way out for Link. They gave plenty of warnings. He knew the risks; and if he chose to stay then he would suffer the consequences of his own volition. That was the conclusion the man seemed to come to when he began to speak.

“Ask whatever you want, Your Highness, I don’t mind.”

While the whole exchange was making Link far too nervous, he was overcome with an emotion he couldn’t quite identify.

For the first time, the reality of Link’s growth had taken root in his two friends. Terry would treat him differently, but not in the way he feared. They would treat him as an adult, capable of making his own decisions for the future. No longer was he the grimy kid they met. But neither would he be a figurehead beyond their reach.

Link bent over, his forehead resting against the hilt of his sword. Was it a relief- independance? He wasn't sure yet.

Zelda sounded just as grateful as Link felt. “I’ve noticed he’s very… gruff? He was always so quiet that I never realized how abrasive he was. Although, I should have known after he and Revali destroyed the Rito chief’s dining room.”

 _“Excuse me?”_ That last half caught Terry off guard, but he recovered quickly, “Goddess, I can’t even be surprised. Has he been rude to you?”

She was laughing. “No- well... yes, a _little. _But at one point I told him it was refreshing, and I still believe that.”__

____

____

“With all due respect, you’re both bizzarre.” As much as Terry preferred etiquette, he was being awfully mouthy. 

The girl laughed even louder.

“But yes,” Terry continued. “That’s normal for him. He’s easy to provoke- but today was the first day I saw him display genuine restraint before attacking someone.”

“Pardon?”

The man shook his head. “I’m sorry, Your Highness. Can't talk about anything that happens in the barracks.”

“Oh, well...I can understand. My fellow researchers and I have a similar agreement.” Zelda made a thoughtful noise before she quickly moved on, “I often worry I speak too much. Do you think he minds?”

He snorted. Terry had enough embarrassing knowledge of Link to know why that was a ridiculous worry. “He doesn't, I assure you.”

The way she was talking about him sounded like she was asking for tips on how to get a wild animal to approach her. Did everyone really see him that way? It was probably well deserved, but it was still somewhat offensive. 

Terry’s hand was wrapped around the halberd he’d stuck in the earth next to him. His finger tapped away at it. Zelda seemed to stare at the gesture. Link wondered if she was connecting the dots: realizing where he had picked up his odd habit from.

“If there’s any advice I can give you, it’s this,” the man offered. He watched the tree canopies as he continued, somber in tone, “He’s a rag. He absorbs the emotions of the people around him more than he realizes, I think... As long as you keep a clear head, so will he.”

She gasped and stood on her toes. It sounded like she had an epiphany. “He said the same thing about horses once!”

_Hylia._

“D-did he?” That redhead was trying too hard not to laugh. Link wanted to go slap him.

When he finally reined in his amusement, Terry said his final piece:

“He was very different after he became Hylia’s Champion. It wasn’t until His Majesty revealed it’d been pulled that I understood why.” Terry looked guilty, for some reason, his finger tapping away at his weapon even louder than before. 

“I know now that all his anger and distant behavior was caused by that sword... He doesn’t hate anyone, he was just scared of Hylia drawing a line between him and the people he cared about. I think he ran away from people ahead of time- to avoid the rejection he’d falsely convinced himself was inevitable.”

While it wasn't something that occurred to Link before, his words rang true. Somehow, Terry understood him better than he did himself.

“That's right. He told me he hated being put above others,” Zelda recalled.

“Precisely,” Terry nodded. “Be mindful of that and I’m sure you’ll get along fine.”

It was easy to tell she was smiling by her tone. “I hope so. I quite like him, after all.”

There was a look that passed over Terry’s face: a weight that cascaded over him. It looked like dread, as if someone had just told him there was a storm rolling in.

Maybe there was.

Link snuffed out the thought and the implications that came with it. It was impossible, he reminded himself.

Zelda thanked the man profusely, and continued to apologize for her improper behavior. Terry waved her off each time, probably too exasperated by their teenage drama to care anymore. He’d done his part as an old man of only twenty-five, offering what advice he could. Whatever stupid thing they did next wouldn’t be his problem.

They said goodnight, wished each other well, and Zelda left to return to the duke’s residence.

Link didn’t bother to move from his position on the steps when she rounded the corner. Upon seeing him sitting there, the princess looked like she was about to faint. 

“H-h-how long have you been there?!” she stammered. Her face was redder than he’d ever seen it.

He smirked. “Long enough.”

“I-”

“It’s midnight. Go to bed.” Link cut her off.

Zelda was reluctant, but ultimately couldn’t resist the allure of an excuse to run away. Taking the idea to heart, she sprinted up the steps and out of sight as fast as a hightail lizard.

Slowly, he stood to make eye contact with Terry. The man jerked his chin, telling Link to come over and talk. He stared at the ground as he approached, once again gripping his scabbard so tightly that he wondered how he hadn’t snapped his own sword in half yet.

When he came to a halt beside him, his companion asked, “You heard all of it, huh?” 

A nod.

“Poor girl,” Terry muttered. “Don’t give her too much grief. I bet she won’t be getting any sleep tonight.”

“I’ll resist the temptation.”

“Among many others, I’m _sure.”_

Chiding. Tart in tone. A hush descended immediately after those words. He couldn’t even hear crickets in the night. Link pondered on just how many awkward silences he’d been forced to endure in the last week.

Gravel shifted as Terry put most of his weight onto his trusty halberd, waiting for Link to say his piece. 

Eventually, he swallowed and choked out: “How long have you known?” 

“Didn’t you hear?” Terry was craning his neck again. Instead of trees, he was staring at the sky. “The second Rhoam paraded you around that sanctum like some sort of prize horse.”

There was genuine remorse when he sighed. “Two whole years hiding. I’m sorry, kiddo.”

“For what?”

“I didn’t realize how terrified you were... I chalked it up to a thirteen-year-old’s immaturity.”

“I’m sorry, too,” Link confessed.

“...For what?”

Sand. Link closed his eyes and remembered the sand beneath his feet at the tourney. He remembered Terry staring down at him- feeling pride for some kid he didn’t even know. 

“At the tourney, I thought to myself you were someone who could be trusted. I still lied to you. I didn’t trust you or Balder as much as I thought I did.”

There was a hand on his shoulder, Terry’s grip firm. “You didn’t owe us anything. None of us blame you for being a child. You shouldn’t, either.”

Link searched his mind for whatever response he should have given, but came up with nothing. He elected to say the first thing that popped up; a question that had been plaguing him for months.

“How much do you think I owe her?”

Terry’s hand slid off his shoulder. The man breathed another sigh, but kept his eyes trained on Link’s. It reminded him of the way Urbosa looked at Zelda as she left Gerudo Town. Fretting, worrying. He could see those same emotions churning in the man before him.

As much as he hoped for a clear answer- to be told what to do- receiving one from Terry would only trivialize his earlier decision. It was time for Link to make the harder decisions for himself. He needed to take proper control of his life. And that started with Zelda.

“That’s up for you to decide, Link.”

They lingered a few minutes longer, watching the clouds float overhead. There was a banner fluttering in the wind; and when he looked at it, Link realized he’d become more appreciative of that emblem than he thought possible.

Terry promised to relay their conversation to Balder, along with Link’s abject apologies. And the next morning, he let those two men ruffle his hair as much as they wanted before he and Zelda departed onwards to Death Mountain.

His horse was waiting for him, already strapped to a small wagon filled with their precious harpoons. How Zelda had talked that intimidating duke into letting his niece wander off with a cart full of weapons, Link couldn’t piece together for the life of him. He’d ask later, in private. At that moment he was busy giving his own heartfelt goodbyes.

Just as Zelda did before leaving the desert, they made promises of their own. 

They would write, they would visit, and they would miss each other dearly. 

A century later, the memory of it was crushing. Hyrule would fall in less than a year after that, and it was too much to imagine what might’ve happened to them. Still, his mind would betray him for many nights after he recalled the event.

Was it rubble? Was it slate? Was it fire? 

He didn’t want to know. He liked to hope they escaped. Terry was smart. Balder was quick on his feet. Link would assure himself they made it to Hateno or deeper into Akkala. He would pray that Hylia protected them where he could not.

Regardless, Zelda had been right. Their ridiculous errand was a blessing in disguise: it became a memory so dear to him that he was almost convinced it was a the only gift Hylia had ever given him. 

  


* * *

  


As Terry predicted, the princess blatantly didn’t get any sleep. She was too embarrassed to bring up the subject herself. After half an hour, Link decided it would be the last awkward silence he had to endure for the week and stopped the cart.

Zelda’s own feet slowed alongside her horse a moment later. She was on the other side of the animal, leaning down just enough to peer at Link from beneath its neck. Her mouth was pulled in a nervous line that seemed awfully similar to a toad.

“You can talk, Zelda,” he broke the silence. “I don’t mind.”

She was muttering something.

“What was that?”

“Nothing.”

“Really?”

_“...Yes.”_

His hands went to his hips. “You can’t complain about me being the distant one if you’re going to hide behind your horse.”

“I wasn’t trying to go behind your back!” she blurted, and shuffled out of sight. When she spoke again, the princess stood on her toes: a pair of disgruntled eyes barely visible over her horse’s mane. “I’m sorry! I was worried I was being too pushy and that you were scared to tell me!”

“You told me to be honest. I agreed, didn’t I?”

“W-well…” It was just the top of her head visible now, bobbing as she paced uncomfortably. “I also said some embarrassing things.”

“Like what?”

She jumped. He could almost see her mouth that time. “You know what!” 

“I want you to say it,” he insisted.

“Why?!”

“If it’s as embarrassing as you say, then you should probably clear things up before I get the wrong idea.” He pretended to have trouble remembering. “What was it? I quite like him?”

Those words must have been utterly humiliating, because the noise she made was completely indescribable. It almost sounded like she was retching into the bushes.

Terry told him not to give her any grief over it, and Link said he would resist the temptation. That was a bald faced lie, of course. He had every intention to resist nothing.

When Zelda finally walked out from behind that horse, she was the picture of poise. Her face was still flushed the color of Urbosa’s hair, though. 

“I understand how that may sound. And while it is true, I hope that you understand it was a friendly, um- a- a friendly... Goddess, I can’t think of the word.”

“A friendly confession of love?” he droned.

She stamped her foot. “You know what I mean! Don’t tease me, Link!”

“Tease you?” He started walking again, pulling his horse along as he drawled, “I’d never, Your Highness.”

Zelda followed after him with her own mount, complaining, _“Yes,_ you are.”

“It was a _friendly_ question,” he defended. 

“I’m going to find a stick,” she warned, “and smack you with it.”

“I doubt you could catch me.”

“I have an elixir for speed in my bag, do _not_ test me.”

Link turned, opened his mouth, and ten seconds later Zelda had a stick: chasing him in circles around their wagon of harpoons.

Like a snapshot, four minutes of scrambling passed before before the girl was doubled over in exhaustion. Even he was winded, hands on his knees, and completely dumfounded by her stamina. Determined, Zelda managed to trudge over to him, lift her stick, and very weakly slap him with it.

That must have been the last of her strength, because she dropped it immediately after- the spindly thing unceremoniously smacking into the dirt.

He looked down at that pathetic twig, then back to her, incredulous.

Zelda did the same. She tried to maintain a sour glare, but when their eyes met, the two of them couldn’t help but erupt into laughter at the absurdity of it all.

As much pain as it might cause him, Link knew he wouldn’t regret it.


	11. A Slippery Slope: Part One

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. I gave fireproof elixirs a buff, because I can  
> 2\. How do they actually work, you ask? I super don't know  
> 3\. Daruk is CRIMINALLY underrated  
> 4\. The journals suggest Robbie is somehow good enough to take out a Guardian?? You'll be able to tell I took that nugget of info and ran a marathon with it lol

If Link were to choose a place in Hyrule in which he experienced the most clarity, Goron City would be it.

Despite the fire, the molten lava, and the searing iron, it was an enjoyable place. The Gorons were simple folk with simple desires- possessing surprisingly pragmatic views on the world around them. 

A century ago, Link reveled in chaos, disorder, or the feeling of bloody knuckles- something which still held true plenty enough; but at only twenty, he was beginning to feel older than he should have. Maybe it was his century-long stasis. Maybe it was something else.

While it certainly wasn’t expected, Goron City offered a respite from his tumultuous past that many places in Hyrule could not.

If anything indicated that, it was Daruk’s boisterous smile overlooking the cliffsides: offering a warm welcome for anyone brave enough to make that dangerous trek into Death Mountain. Daruk protected Link in more ways than one, and he often wished that he’d had the opportunity to thank that rowdy Goron for everything he probably wasn’t even aware he’d done for him.

Link wasn’t sure why he felt so thankful towards Daruk. It was mostly a gut feeling that told him he had fond memories of the Goron. As a result, he dedicated a day to smashing rocks, trailing his hands across warm stone, or splashing around whatever hot springs he could find in hopes of sparking some sort of memory.

Nothing came of it, though. It frustrated him, but Link eventually gave up and elected to spend the rest of his time exploring. Trying to force a memory never worked; yet it never stopped him from trying. It was the definition of insanity, really: trying to do the same thing over and over expecting different results.

However, the solution wound up being simpler than he thought.

He’d been squatting in a cave glaring intently at a ruby when Yunobo meandered past with a load of his own gems. He’d walked up during Link’s distraction, and before he could completely turn to face the Goron, quite literally smacked his memories into him. He stumbled, coughing.

Link rolled his shoulder, trying to work out the pain- including all the information that had suddenly been crammed in his head. 

“Hi,” he managed.

Yunobo grinned and laughed. Link took note of the fact that it sounded more like a preteen girl giggling than a Goron capable of lifting five hundred pound boulders. “You’re the first Hylian I’ve seen who doesn’t plant straight in the dirt when we do that.”

The mental image of a Hylian smacking face first into the dirt was a little more amusing to Link than it should’ve been.

“Do you think it’s a good idea to slap people who are half the size of your hand?”

He grimaced, sheepish. “I’m a little forgetful,” Yunobo admitted. “The boss yells at me for it ‘cause I keep scaring people away. I guess I hit harder than I should.”

“You hit as hard as he does,” Link muttered- but it wasn’t in complaint.

“Huh?”

He laughed: a little breathless. “Nothing.”

Yunobo was quickly distracted by the pile of glittering gems around Link’s feet. “...What are ya doin’?”

“...Mining.”

The noise he made was like a goose. “T-this is the boss’ favorite mining shaft.”

Link was monotone. “And?”

“If he finds out you were stealing from it he’ll beat you with a stone cobbler for sure!” In his panic, it looked like he was running in place.

A derisive grin spread over his face. Bludo, fast enough to beat him with a stone cobbler? Unlikely. That Goron was no angry princess with a stick.

“Stealing is bad!” Yunobo insisted when he saw that look on his face.

“I wasn’t stealing,” he stated, hands on hips.

He actually was, but it wasn’t like he was taking all of them. A proper, shining ruby was all he wanted: one to replace the tourney emblem he’d lost.

“Oh. What were you doin’ with them?”

 _“Yunobo!”_ Bludo’s gravelly tone carried over the mountain, furious. _“Where’s my rocks?!”_

The Goron made a frightened noise and shouted into the air. “Coming, boss! Oh geez, I totally forgot the time!” Before he left, he assured Link with a stylish thumbs up, “Don’t you worry bud, I won’t tell him!”

Yunobo waved goodbye and leapt off the cliff. He caught sight of the Goron soaring into the air using Daruk’s Protection, and that was the end of their short visit.

Link promptly returned to smashing rocks.

Mining for gems was a ridiculous habit he possessed from the moment he woke up; and it wasn’t until he started to remember the details of his past that he realized Zelda could easily be blamed for inflating his strange attraction to anything colorful or glittering.

By the end of their journey together, he guessed they must have looked like packrats: toting around a bunch of inexplicable keepsakes that may have been worth a small fortune. At one point, he’d found a knife in Zelda’s bag. Her reasoning was that she found the gold lettering on its hilt interesting to look at. 

“Where did you get this?” he questioned, waving the sharp thing in her face as they descended the road leading to Foothill Stables.

“It was in my uncle’s office.”

“The duke’s?

“...Yes.” 

Once again, he’d caught her hand in the cookie jar.

“You stole this?”

“Goodness, no. I asked kindly, and he agreed. He had twenty of them, after all.” she defended, crossing her arms when Link gave her a doubtful look. “I am the princess of Hyrule, not a thief.”

So she claimed.

The blade gleamed. Had- had she been sharpening it, too? “...What are you going to do with it?”

“Hmm... well, my first thought was that it would be good for preparing meals. You’ve broken all three of our previous knives, after all.”

“They were weak,” Link offered his own defense, crossing his arms to match. 

“You’re a brute,” Zelda corrected.

He scowled at that. “I’m taking this. It’s sharp.”

“Very well,” she sighed as if she was merely allowing him to borrow it. “I would appreciate it if you refrained from snapping this one in half. I prefer being able to cut vegetables with something other than the Master Sword.”

That comment stupefied him. “You used my sword?”

She blinked. “Yes, while you were buying spices from that merchant last week. How else do you think I managed to cut those potatoes?”

“You-” Link stammered. “How?”

Zelda gave him a bewildered look. “H-how did I cut potatoes with a sword? If you must know, I positioned the blade over-”

“No, Zelda,” he cut her off, waving his hand. “No one can touch it.”

The princess ‘ahh’d as if she finally understood everything. “I apologize. If I knew you were sensitive about it I would have asked for permission.”

He waved the knife around again. “That’s not it. Didn’t you feel anything? Did it make you lightheaded?”

“No... Does it usually have that effect?” She leaned in after he said that. Her eyes gleamed, a little too curious for his liking.

“Most people who tried to pull it passed out or got sick,” he explained, “...and you used it to cut vegetables.”

Zelda’s face lit up as a hand flew to her chin. “Well, that is very intriguing. Perhaps that sword has a mind of its own? Like the Beasts? I wonder if it didn’t mind being held by me. More likely it no longer has that effect on people after being pulled- have you tried giving it to anyone?”

“...No.” He backed away a little. Possessive.

The princess ignored his discomfort. “We should. In fact, we should find a volunteer.”

Slowly, their heads turned to the stables that were now within sight. When they reached its doors, Zelda wiggled her fingers at Link and he begrudgingly handed his sword to her. Just like she described, she was able to hold it with ease: tossing it from hand to hand.

“Odd. I really don’t feel a thing,” she confirmed.

It was a little strange to watch Hylia’s descendant fiddle with an ancient, sacred blade like it was a plaything, yet it was more amusing to him than anything else.

Her eyes locked onto a Hylian man leaning against one of the stable’s posts. She must have been excited to try out her experiment, because ‘volunteer’ apparently meant ‘unknowing participant’. 

Link watched from a distance as Zelda prowled up to that man with a broad grin and greeted him:

“Good morning, sir!” 

He looked down at her, a smile immediately spreading over his own face. “Yes, little lady?”

“I don’t mean to bother you, but could you unsheathe this for me? It’s rusted, and I must be too weak to open it myself.”

“Of course!” He stood straight, his hand reaching out to grab it as Zelda held it up for him. 

The man lifted it a little, blinked confusedly, and said, _“...Huh.”_

With that, he fainted: planting face first into a bed of hay. 

Zelda caught the Sword before it fell alongside him. When she turned to Link, there was a look of unbridled awe and excitement on her face. Apparently, she was unable to contain her elation, because she jumped in place twice.

He didn’t know if he should have been amazed alongside her or wary of what she would do next.

The man came to almost immediately, startling awake with a gasp. He lifted his head. Straw stuck out of his hair as he squinted up at Zelda.

“Are you alright? How do you feel?” she asked.

The Hylian told her he was fine- albeit very sleepy- and she promptly wished him well before walking off, leaving him to try and decipher what he just experienced on his own. 

“Goddess, this is so interesting,” she whispered fervently as she scribbled something in her notebook. “We must continue our trials.”

Link didn’t refuse. It’d been quite some time since she found something to fixate on. Zelda was always happiest that way; and he had no desire to ruin her fun- or his for that matter.

Purah had a few researchers waiting for them within the stables. They didn’t offer much explanation before they frantically snatched up rolls of those harpoons and scampered off, saying something about being _'terribly late’_ and to _'meet Purah in town as quickly as possible’_. 

It was highly suspicious- yet who was he to complain about finally having those things taken off his hands?

Mindful of Purah’s newest demand, they set off immediately after boarding their horses.

It was an hour down the road into Death Mountain’s canyons that Zelda handed him several bottles of fireproof elixirs. He fanned himself; the air was already too hot for his liking, so Link decided to uncork one of the bottles. Zelda stopped him immediately with a pointed finger.

“Don’t drink it!” was her dramatic warning. “These must be taken only when the heat becomes unbearable!”

“...Why?”

“It will _kill_ you, of course. Has... no one told you how these work? They lower your body temperature to a freezing degree. It’s balanced out by the awful heat.”

Link stood silent. 

“What?” she questioned with rising urgency, “Please tell me you didn’t already take one, Link.”

“I didn’t,” he inspected the bottle, scratching his head, “but I took one when I visited a couple years ago.”

Zelda stopped in her tracks, mystified. “And you’re alive?”

Was he supposed to answer that?

“Did- did someone sell you a faulty elixir?” she pressed.

He glanced at the mountain. “It worked when I got near lava.”

“I can’t begin to tell you how strange that is." Zelda stared at the bottle. Liquid swirled, and so did the curiosity in her eyes. "...Would it have the same effect, you think?”

She wasn’t exactly telling him to drink it, but Link merely shrugged and chugged the whole thing anyway. The heat vanished almost immediately: his skin felt a little cool- yet as far as he could tell he wasn’t dying. In fact, he was more distracted by the taste. It was like mud. It had the texture of it, too.

“Well?” Zelda asked after recovering from her shock. “Do you feel anything?”

“It’s cold, but I’m fine.”

She gawped at him. After a heartbeat of quiet, the princess closed the distance between them, lifting her hands to his cheeks and cradling his face.

“You...” she murmured lovingly as Link desperately fought for composure, “are _utterly_ fascinating.”

His hands shot to her wrists and he pulled them away, swallowing down whatever girlish noise threatened to escape his mouth.

“Let’s go,” he choked out, hiking off at a rapid pace.

“Oh! We should take your temperature later!” Zelda called after him. “Remind me, will you?”

He definitely would not. 

  


* * *

  


Rudania was stumbling drunk.

That’s what it looked like as the two of them stared up at Death Mountain. The oversized lizard slipped, its tail ramming into pillars of rocks or kicking up lava. Months had passed since the Goron Champion was given control, and he still couldn’t get it to walk straight. Link could imagine Purah at that moment, screaming at Daruk for his reckless piloting.

He wondered if the Goron would even flinch after being hit by her clipboard. Most likely not. Daruk barely flinched when Link used his face as a springboard three years ago, after all.

Their meeting was the result of a whim. It was when he strayed from the road home after one of his excursions to Zora’s Domain, and he wound up knee deep in Bokoblins and Lizalfos after poking his head into one too many caves. There was a skirmish: one, four, or eight were slain before Lizalfos forced him to back out of the cavern and near a cliff edge.

It was a fragile precipice. The stone caved beneath his feet, and the overeager monsters went tumbling with him.

Of course, it was long enough back that Link still bothered to carry around a knight’s shield. He wound up skidding down the mountainside on it, Bokoblins rolling like barrels next to him. The Lizalfos were more adept, though, and fast enough to chase after him. When he came to a discarded iron ramp, it sent him far into the air.

A voice called out to him. Arms waved. Daruk was already standing on the path below waiting to help; but at a first glance, Link thought he was just another boulder littering the road. As a result, he flipped, rammed his shield into the Goron’s face, and launched himself towards the Lizalfos leaping after him.

When he turned, Bokoblins bursting into smoke around him as they finally hit the ground, his shield was still planted in Daruk’s face. Several heartbeats passed before he peeled it off. The Goron stared at him- astonished by what he witnessed.

One of the Lizalfos was still behind Daruk, scampering towards him. Link’s reaction was to pick up a crate and fling it at the creature; it skidded down another steep incline.

Strangely, the Goron burst into a fit of laughter: his voice an earthquake in its own right.

Within two hours, Link found himself taking a bite out of a rock roast that Daruk insisted was a delicacy beyond comparison.

The texture was nothing to write home about, that was for sure. However, for several days after he would reflect upon the taste of spiced rock crumbling in his mouth, wondering if the whole experience was some sort of fever dream.

By the end of it, Link got along with Daruk and the other Gorons so spectacularly that they all agreed he should visit again.

He probably wouldn’t be eating rocks a second time if he could avoid it, though.

His father hardly even believed him when he got home. But upon remembering just what kind of child he raised, the man accepted it without question. Somehow, he’d become the only Hylian in existence to be adopted by both the Zora and the Gorons.

The trek to Goron City was largely without incident. Like Gerudo Canyon, it was busy enough that the paths were clear and monsters scarce; to boot, the occasional Goron rolled by as fast as cart wheels flying across a town square.

They arrived early in the morning the next day, but Purah was nowhere to be found. Neither was Daruk. Upon interrogating a stray Sheikah or two, they cobbled together enough information to assume that one or the other would show up by noon at the latest.

Thus, they stood in the midst of Goron City: lost on how to occupy themselves. Well, he was- but Zelda had a brilliant idea. Link stared at her hand as she wiggled her fingers, demanding he give her the Master Sword yet again.

“Why?” he said, her fingers still wiggling.

“I said we would continue our trials, didn’t I?” She gestured wide. “Look, there are Gorons, Sheikah, and even Gerudo here! Aren’t you curious to see if a Goron has the endurance to hold the blade for longer?”

When she put it that way, it did make him curious.

A second later, Zelda had her sword and Link followed after to find their first victim. To his surprise, the princess ran her experiments a little more ethically that time by letting whomever was brave enough try their hand at it. 

Most of the Goron were beyond eager. They loved a challenge, and Zelda very easily framed it as a test of strength. The Sheikah were greedy to try as well: just as inquisitive as their princess. It was almost pitiful, watching one burly Goron after the next hype themselves up only to keel over into the dirt- either to pass out or lose their lunch. Out of everyone in that city, there were only two people sensible enough not to try: the Gerudo women.

“Goodness,” Zelda marveled, “we’ve crippled Goron City.”

Link stood planted next to her, gazing out over the town’s prone occupants. They were all conscious, but each and every one of them were exhausted to a point that they could barely move. At a first glance, it looked like the entire city was suffering from a powerful hangover. Some Goron were splayed over countertops, snoring away as Hylians stumbled aimlessly.

“...I think that’s enough.” He slowly took his sword away from her. She didn’t protest. It had been a very productive trial, after all.

With nothing else to do, they returned to the inn. Zelda took down notes before she busied herself with preparing more elixirs. Link tried- and failed- to slap the innkeep awake so he could pay for their beds.

There was a hiss of pain, but not from the Goron. Zelda held her hands, a Lizalfos talon clattering to the floor.

Without a word, he sat on the bed across from her, and the princess let him take her hands. She’d cut fingers on both of them; they were deep gashes: blood already seeping from the wounds.

“It’s bad isn’t it?” she winced, her eyes shut tight. She didn’t even want to look at it herself. 

“It’s fine,” he muttered. With both of her hands useless, Link was the one tasked with wrapping bandages around them. After some time, he paused, staring curiously. 

“What is it? Is it bad?” a nervous squeak.

The words realigned his train of thought. His eyes snapped to hers- the action momentary. 

“It's nothing,” he assured her as he finished wrapping her fingers. “Your hands are more calloused than I thought.”

Stained with ink, marred with cuts, and rough with dirt.

She made a thoughtful noise. Zelda sounded ashamed when she responded:

“...Yes. They’re not fit for a princess, are they?”

His comment was absent minded; it slipped out of his mouth without proper consideration. “No, they’re perfect.”

Link froze, and so did Zelda. Before either of them could respond to or justify his red-faced panic, there was a noise from the entrance of the inn.

_“Euugh!”_

Purah was doubled over, gagging, “You two are disgusting! What, do you eat each other’s faces when no one’s around, too?!”

 _“No!”_ Zelda gasped as the two of them shot to their feet.

Purah stood straight. Her lip curled as she looked Link up and down, unimpressed. She waved her burned hand in a manner that was all too similar to Revali.

“Of course, Your Highness,” she drawled. “That was stupid of me. He’s way too pent up to be getting any action.”

Link grabbed a pot to throw at her, but Zelda moved between the two of them and jabbed a finger at him, hissing:

 _“Put that down this instant!”_ She then turned to Purah. “And you! That was inappropriate! _Apologize!”_

The woman made another disgusted noise. “Fine, Your Highness, but only because I need him for a thing.”

She was unbelievable.

“I’m _sorry,”_ Purah offered a dramatic bow. Some ash flaked off her singed robes. What brimstone had she crawled out of?

He crossed his arms, glaring, yet she didn’t acknowledge it. 

“What in Hylia’s name did you two do to my goons?” Purah wandered over to the innkeep and slapped him. His head merely rolled to the side. “They’re out there drooling all over themselves like this sack of bones.”

Link waved his scabbard at her a little, their spat already forgotten. 

“Ahh,” she nodded slowly- approvingly. “I’ll be asking for details later.”

With that, the woman flicked her wrist and strutted out the door. “Come with me, lovelies, we’ve got a giant lizard to catch.”

Zelda didn’t complain. If anything, she ran excitedly after the Sheikah woman, and Link could only hope whatever Purah was scheming was enough to distract all of them from the humiliating things that came out of his mouth. 

  


* * *

  


“So,” Purah said as a rock exploded behind her, “you see this Talus? I hate it, make it go away.”

It was flinging boulders at their protective nook, lava spraying. 

“I was stuck behind a rock for two hours before I could get away from that thing.” She tried to fix her bent and cracked glasses. Purah snarled menacingly when she couldn’t. “I want it _dead.”_

Zelda raised her hand. “Where’s Daruk?” 

“Busy panicking up the mountain, Your Highness. It’s been four days and he can’t figure out how to make the Beast stop rampaging all over the place. _Again.”_ Her anger melted away, and the woman addressed him much more fondly. “So, Linky, I’ve got some ice- ok, there he goes.”

He was already gone, sprinting off to the Talus. Getting close turned out to be a little harder than he thought it would be. He could see why Purah hated it with such passion; the sentient boulder was far more aggressive than most with the way it chucked rocks at anything that so much as twitched. It stomped around just like Rudania, too, the vibrations enough to make the average person's knees buckle.

Regardless, the Talus’ movements were far too obvious. Predicting its trajectory was easy, and Link was able to jump or roll farther than most.

Its vital point was high- far out of reach: a fact which threatened to turn their fight into a stalemate. Normally he would climb it, but that thing’s searing rock made it out of the question. That was hardly important, though. They were considered monsters, but in the end, Taluses were simply dumb rocks. As such, luring them into a trap was easier than stealing a bat from a Bokoblin. Baiting it to a wall, Link ran up it, flipped off, and with one quick swipe of his sword, cut its weak spot in half.

Upon landing and rolling to his feet, Purah cackled: her revenge complete.

“Thank Hylia,” The woman looked at Zelda as they approached. “Can I please keep him, Your Highness?”

“He’s not a dog,” the princess rebuked. “Besides-"

There were rocks tumbling in the distance. He saw something metallic glittering and stretched over distant canyons, but couldn’t make out what it was. Link put his hands on his hips, distracted by it.

“-likes monsters more than you, Your Highness.”

He tuned back into the conversation when Zelda began to stammer. She couldn’t find words, and looked at him expectantly, but he merely stared. His face blank as a sheet of paper.

“I don’t think he’s paying attention,” Purah whispered very loudly. 

The princess sighed, and they continued on.

It was clear they were getting close to Purah’s camp. He began to catch sight of more and more mops of white hair poking out from rocks or boulders as they marched up the path. No matter their occupation, Sheikah all moved the same. They were quiet flashes at the edge of one’s vision: darting in and out of view with ease. Even Purah had snuck up on Link more times than he cared to admit, and that woman was probably the loudest Sheikah in existence.

Lava rushing in the distance sounded like waterfalls, and the rumbling stone beneath their feet was a steady thrum. Oddly enough, there was one noise that stood out- echoing over the mountain side at intervals he couldn’t quite identify. Although, he did recognize the noise.

It sounded like a snap: a ballista being fired into the open air. 

He was almost tempted to split off from the two women just so he could find whatever was causing it. But as it turned out, he didn’t even need to squash that temptation. 

They rounded a corner, exiting their ravine. Wind swept over them as they stood atop a high cliff, and Link became transfixed by a Sheikah man standing upon a raised platform, surrounded by six ballistas. They were loaded, manned by Sheikah workers. Hands hovered over the triggers, waiting.

The man at their center jumped as the wind surged, thrust his arm out, and shouted:

_“Fire!”_

They shot off, flying towards Death Mountain as fast as Urbosa’s lightning. Wire spiraled behind them, and went taught as the harpoons lodged into brimstone. There were several Hylian-shaped blobs on the other side of the canyon, and much to Link’s shock, they slid down those metal ropes, headed straight for the cliff they stood on.

Those researchers were nimble, rolling onto the precipice and sprinting off down another path with their supplies. One screamed a report as they vanished from sight:

“It’s headed Southeast!”

Those manning the ballistas grabbed the remaining harpoons and followed.

“You made zip lines?” Zelda exclaimed. “With our harpoons?!”

Purah sounded awfully sure of herself when she spoke, “We’ve got a lot more than the ones you bought, actually. And trust me, Your Highness, if you spent months climbing up and down that mountain, you’d feel the same.” She shook out her legs, grimacing, “My thighs have never been more sore.”

The woman did, however, mutter something about her thighs never looking better. There was a pause when Rudania stormed into view. It prompted her to add, “But it turns out we need them for chasing that Beast down instead. Can’t move fast enough without them.”

Link was still staring at those zip lines. He wanted to try.

He was so enthralled by the thought of it that he failed to notice the flickering goggles two inches from his face. Gasping, Link backpedalled away from them only to discover their owner was the same Sheikah man who commanded those ballistas. Instead of giving him personal space, the man crept towards him again: looking him up and down.

“Be still,” he demanded. He lifted Link’s arm, yanking him around to scrutinize something.

"Um, what-"

“Hm. Yes,” he rambled. “You might have the strength for the saw.” 

The _what?_

“That’s Robbie,” Zelda introduced, probably feeling pity for Link. “He is our co-director.”

The name rang a bell.

Robbie was briefly mentioned as Purah’s accomplice in the Kolomo incident. One of King Rhoam’s new regulations stated that he and Purah should only work together unless absolutely necessary- to prevent further incidents. It must have been for show. The wording was nowhere near strict enough to stop anyone; and his presence there, commanding ill-gotten harpoons, was proof of that.

 _“Doctor_ Robbie!” he yelled in Link’s ear.

He grit his teeth at the volume and grabbed Robbie’s hand. Although, instead of telling that man to move away, he muttered low enough that Zelda couldn’t hear: 

“You’ve got a saw. Where is it?”

Dr. Robbie grinned, his teeth baring. “I’ll be in touch.”

With that, the man tore his hand away and bowed to Zelda. “It’s wonderful to see you, Your Highness.” The warmth of his tone vanished when he dramatically pointed to Purah. _“But you!_ Where have you been?!”

“Stuck behind a Talus!” she snapped. “I told you to take care of that thing before it wandered into the road! But no, you decided to play with harpoons all morning!”

He scoffed, and they began to argue.

Robbie lifted his goggles to sneer at the woman. He seemed young: no older than Purah, but no younger than Impa- although his tone was as gravelly as an old man’s. So was his attitude.

He waved his hands, the threads around his wrists swaying with the motion. It confused Link. He couldn’t quite figure out what half of the Sheikah he was born in. That man’s clothing was an odd mix; gloves and boots that were far more reminiscent of Sheikah warriors, but offset by the pale robes of a researcher.

Their bickering was finally interrupted by the sound of Vah Rudania as it repeatedly walked into a distant cliffside. With a glance between all four of them, they began their mad dash to catch that Divine Beast. 

  


* * *

  


As it turned out, Robbie was very flexible.

Lizalfos littered the trail. The Sheikah man had unexpectedly joined Link when he ran up to meet them. He quickly understood why Purah blamed Robbie for not taking care of that Talus when he saw him flip deftly over a tail swipe, place a hand on the ground for support, and ram his heel into the creature’s face.

That Lizalfos rolled to Link’s feet: limp. That kick must have been powerful, because it exploded into mist after only one blow.

Blue flashed, and Robbie flipped a sword in his palm that bore a striking resemblance to Sheikah Technology. It cut through the four of the creatures as easily as Link’s own sword. 

The man was fast- too fast; he might’ve been as fast as Link. It shocked him. He’d never seen someone who could match his speed, let alone brute strength. In all fairness, he knew that Sheikah warriors were needed in Purah’s excavations, but it never occurred to him that they were so strong.

Unless Robbie was an exception? With every Lizalfos that he watched the man fling into one boulder after the next, he felt more and more tempted to demand Robbie fight him. Especially when the mist cleared and that Sheikah struck a pose worse than any he’d seen.

“Onwards!” the man shouted skyward. Link sincerely couldn’t tell if he was joking.

The noon sun was now in full force, but it wasn’t visible in the valley they sprinted down. Rudania passed overhead, its movements alone creating torrents of rushing air. Purah desperately tapped away at her Slate as they came to a stop. She cursed. Even with the Beast directly above them, they weren’t close enough for her commands to take any effect; only a Champion could control it from outside its walls. Consequently, Rudania was gone far too quickly: its tail vanishing over another hill. Hylian scouts were still shouting off directions- reporting the Beast’s trajectory.

It all seemed useless. No one was fast enough on foot to catch it, let alone climb that thing.

“Robs, have you seen-”

Purah said something, but there was an odd sound that caused her voice to trail off. They all craned their necks at the sky.

Without a colossus of slate blocking their view, Link spied a figure blocking out the sun. Whatever it was, it was roaring and flailing, making the same noise as a Bokoblin when thrown off a cliff. 

He shielded his eyes to get a better look. It was a...flying Moblin?

Link gasped for the second time that day when he was forced to dodge the creature; it slammed into the space between him and Zelda, dirt billowing into the air along with purple mist. Whatever scream she and Purah surely let out were overtaken by a familiar roar of laughter reverberating across Death Mountain. 

_“Comin’ through!”_

Daruk shouted a warning as he rolled down a nearby cliffside, chasing after Lizalfos that were trying to scamper away from him. When he bounced into the air, he threw out his boulder breaker, rammed it into the monsters, and sent them flying in an arc just as he did to the Moblin.

Upon landing back onto the hill, Daruk curled into himself again and kept on rolling. 

The rest of his group had more sense- fleeing from his path. He didn’t bother to move, and put his hands on his hips as he stared down the Goron speeding towards him. Despite the warnings Zelda shouted, Daruk skidded to a halt just in time: his shadow enveloping Link as a cloud of dust erupted around them.

He was still laughing. “Ballsy as ever!” 

Link raised a hand in greeting. The next second, Daruk had lifted him off the ground, crushing him in a hug that made him choke. When he finally dropped him, he coughed into the ground.

“Hey, little princess!” he saluted Zelda while Link was still gasping for air. She managed a smile, her hair frayed as she waved.

 _“There you are!”_ A voice like a whip. They all stood to attention.

Purah didn’t seem to care that Lizalfos were raining from the heavens as she stomped over to Daruk.

He wilted, bracing himself for her scolding, but it seemed the Sheikah woman had no intention of wasting time. She gestured for the princess to give up her Slate. Zelda obliged, and with the two devices in hand, Purah flung them at both Link and Robbie.

She addressed Daruk with a threatening finger in his face. _“You’re_ staying with me to guard Zelda. And you two! You’re faster going up the mountain! Go catch that thing!”

The woman wasn’t wrong about that; Gorons had an easy time descending, but they were far slower going up that volcano- and, unfortunately, that’s exactly what direction Rudania headed in.

“I’m fast too,” that Goron protested weakly, the guilt in his tone palpable. It was true; he was faster than others of his kind, yet Purah shot him down anyway.

“Your hands are too big to operate those things, and I prefer to double my chances.”

She wouldn’t say it out loud, but she also simply didn’t trust him not to do any more damage. Admittedly, Link felt bad for him. It wasn’t like Daruk to be so meek or furtive. But, they had little time to debate the subject.

Link exchanged a look with Robbie. The man grinned, snapped his goggles in place, and they took off: boots rapping against iron sheets.

The path up the mountain was winding and steeper than it looked. Robbie practically ran sideways along the cliff face whilst Link vaulted over metal crates littering the road. 

Rudania was within sight. Its own ascent was disorderly: veering off to the left and right with little warning. They’d gotten close two or three times, but could never get high enough to leap onto it before it ran off somewhere else. Their chances took a turn for the better when the Beast twisted in an arc, crawling back down the mountain and passing just beneath the two of them.

It was far, though. Too far of a jump to make.

Link spied a harpoon- a zip line extended just over that Beast’s path. There was no doubt Robbie saw the spark go off in his head, and when a mad grin spread over Link’s face, the man tried to instill some reason in him.

“Now, boy, let’s not do anything too-”

Link sprinted off, unstrapped his sword from his back, and used it to hurtle down that metal rope. Most likely, the rest of the region was bearing witness to his insanity- Goron City included. Zelda was probably screaming. He’d get an earful later, he was sure.

His target was the terminal courtyard.

Despite what most would assume, Link did have a plan. Kind of. Rudania’s back was well over fifty feet beneath him, but the zip line was, of course, angled downwards. If the timing was perfect, he could let go far enough down the line that his fall wouldn’t be lethal- for him- but his momentum wouldn’t send him flying over the edge, either.

It was simple physics.

He was still absurdly lucky, though. Its body momentarily tilted to the side as he fell, allowing him to at least skid across the slate before he slammed directly into a pillar.

The sword clattered off somewhere, the noise accompanying the crack of what were probably a few bones. He laid there: groaning in pain a little pathetically until a minute passed, and he crawled to his feet. His vision blurred when he looked at Purah’s Slate, so he elected to tap the first button he could make out.

It was also a very lucky guess.

Vah Rudania let out a cry before it halted. Link stumbled alongside the abrupt movement, the tremors quieting, and with that, the Beast finally calmed after its days-long rampage across Death Mountain. 

  


* * *

  


Daruk stood hunched over, his fingers pressing together in a fretful manner.

Sheikah were off crowding around Rudania’s terminal to inspect the full scope of the damage done to it. Even Zelda was there: poking her head over Purah’s shoulder.

The Goron made an anxious noise. He glanced from Link to his Divine Beast. “You’ve seen the other champions, right?” he leaned over, sheepish. “Are… there any tips you can pass along?”

Link’s face was flat.

Daruk made another noise. He sounded like a goose. “C’mon, anything will do. Help a brother out, will you?”

There was a brief contemplation before he nodded, and Link gestured for him to wait before walking over to Zelda. The researchers’ conversation died as he approached; they waited expectantly for him to speak, looking at him like he'd just interrupted a private huddle.

“Your Highness,” he requested as he lowered his head, “may I borrow your Slate?”

“...What do you need it for?”

“I’m helping Daruk, Your Highness.”

She handed it to him surprisingly quickly. Zelda might have trusted him, or she might have been too curious to refuse, but it didn’t matter. The princess briefly showed him the controls, and soon Link and Daruk were walking a little further down the courtyard.

“Stand here,” he directed, pointing to the threshold of a doorway overlooking the Beast’s belly. 

Daruk moved into place, obedient for the time being. He stuck his head over the threshold to inspect the space below- perhaps wondering if there was something Link wanted him to see. Instead of explaining, he began to walk behind Daruk.

“Uhh,” the Goron scratched his head, wary of the Hylian circling him like a predator bird, “what are we doin’, little guy?”

“Close your eyes.”

“...Okay.”

When Daruk turned away, he raised his boot, waited one heartbeat, and kicked him over the edge. His yelping and flailing grew distant as he fell into the bowels. He was fine when Link checked on him, of course, the Goron already peeling himself from the slate.

“What was that for?!” he shouted up, bathed in Link's looming shadow.

A little ominously, he said:

“He who explores the forest knows it best.”

No doubt Daruk had plenty of questions and concerns, but they were mercilessly cut short when Link tapped the Slate and closed all the doors and windows within the Beast: locking him in along with his frightened protests.

Neither Purah or Zelda asked him many questions when he returned to give the princess her Slate. There was a shrug or two, and they all quietly agreed to leave that poor Goron in there. For some reason, they might have put faith in Link’s intuition on the matter.

The rest of the day was spent tending to the Beast. He sat in the shade, exhausted and cradling his shoulder. He already had a bruise on his face from Akkala, and now there were nearly a hundred more after his fall.

Naturally, he dutifully watched over Zelda as she scampered from one end of the machine to the next. It wasn’t long before she spied him lurking in the shadows: something which prompted her to snatch up her bag and dig around in it. Moments later, she squatted in front of him with a red potion in hand.

Glaring, the girl pushed it against his chest.

“Drink it, you buffoon,” she demanded hotly, and sprung to her feet to continue her work.

He joked a complaint about the taste. She stuck her tongue out at him right before dipping her head into the terminal.

Vah Rudania wasn’t ready to be powered on until the sun set. It was only then that Purah benevolently allowed Daruk to emerge from his confinement.

“Daruk, sweetie?” she called into the Beast. “Are you still in there?”

There was a response Link couldn’t make out as Daruk's hand lifted into view and pulled himself up.

“You’ve been busy!” he exclaimed as he stood, looking over the gaggle of Sheikah before him.

Purah informed him they were powering it on, but Daruk had a suggestion.

“Can I try? I think I’ve got an idea how to do it.”

The woman pursed her lips. She wanted to refuse, yet the confidence in his tone convinced her to indulge him.

Daruk closed his eyes, humming with concentration while they all tentatively shuffled into a circle to observe. The next instant, his head jerked up, and Rudania flashed to life: its terminal pulsing blue.

The researchers erupted into applause as the Beast began to saunter fluidly over the mountain. Their two directors went to their knees, practically weeping with relief. There was a hand at the back of Daruk's head. Bashful.

Link was pleased to see his pride had returned. The Goron almost looked like a sunspot when he huffed with satisfaction- his smile bright.

He walked up to Link and raised his hand to smack him, but seeing him still hunched over in pain was enough to make Daruk show mercy.

“Sorry, little guy. You had to do some crazy stuff for me.”

A shrug. “I would’ve done something crazy, anyway.”

There was a laugh. No one could disagree with that statement. Daruk gasped, and he threw his arms wide. “Lemme treat you guys to dinner at my place! I wouldn’t feel right without doing somethin’ to repay you.”

Free food? He was open to that. 

“I’ve got some gourmet sirloin rock just waiting to be eaten!” 

Oh no.

Luckily, Purah interjected. “I’m not hungry enough to eat rocks, you dolt! You better serve some normal food!”

Rudiana was filled with a chorus of agreement, and Daruk merely shook his head as if they were all delusional. 

  


* * *

  


The Champion’s home was a cave more than anything else. Though, it was still decorated like one. A row of cobble crushers hung on the wall: gradually increasing in size. 

Link guessed they were mementos from childhood- growing in size in tandem with Daruk. It was hard to imagine him being a child. The best mental image he could come up with was a sized down version of Daruk with a squeaky voice, beard and all.

Considering how near and dear meals were to the Goron’s heart, it wasn’t surprising to see that his dinner table was long; it fit all twenty attendants with room to spare. And, being as big as he was, Daruk sat at the head of the table. He elected to use his wide view for munching on rocks and looking over the Hylians’ food with a bit of disgust. Link's gaze followed his to gold and blue amidst all the white and red.

Zelda seated herself farther down the line across from Link, the girl nestled between Purah and Robbie. She seemed perfectly content to munch on her own food as the two directors chattered back and forth faster than birds perched on an awning. Although, she did cast a glance to Link's plate. It was disgusted enough to rival Daruk's.

The Goron was thoroughly convinced Link adored his rock food as much as he did. As a result, a hunk of it sat in front of him. Wondering what the spice would taste like, he did wind up taking a bite out of it. Zelda’s jaw went slack, and her hand smacked onto her forehead, exasperated.

The texture was exactly as he remembered. Although the spice had more kick to it. It wasn’t bad. Daruk positively beamed when Link took another bite. He was probably going to make himself sick, but the flavor was addictive.

“You know,” Zelda commented to Robbie, “you two resemble each other.”

Link assumed she was talking about Purah and Robbie, but she pointed at him. They evaluated each other, trying to grasp what she was talking about. Back then, their hair might’ve been similar given that it was pulled back the same way Link’s was, albeit cut far more evenly. In all honesty, his was a disaster compared to that man’s.

Robbie watched him pluck another rock into his mouth, and looked at Zelda like he was terribly offended.

Seeing their mutual confusion, she clarified:

“In _strength,_ I mean. I am impressed you can keep up with Link- I can’t think of many who have managed it before.”

Robbie grinned, prideful, but for a slightly different reason than Link thought. “Without a doubt! It runs in the family.”

He stopped moving. So did the rest of the table. Half of them stared at Robbie, and the others at Link: desperately trying to understand what was being referenced.

“Oh,” Purah chortled with a mouth full of food, “I totally forgot.”

Link weathered a response. “What?”

Robbie frowned, perplexed. “Your father didn’t tell you?" A hand swept his hair back. Dramatic. _"I,_ Dr. Robbie, am your first cousin once removed.”

“My _what?”_

“Your mom was his cousin. She’s Sheikah, buddy,” Purah translated. “Your dad really didn’t say anything?”

“You’re joking.” Link couldn’t believe it. The goggled man in front of him couldn’t possibly share blood with him. Even a drop- a smidge.

“Far from it,” Robbie crossed his arms. “I attended the wedding. Even saw you as an infant. You were very small, but could knock your father out with one kick to his jaw- it’s how we knew you’d grow up to be the devil you are now.”

Zelda snorted into her hand. If they weren’t surrounded by prying eyes, Link would have probably walked over and flicked her forehead. She was far from the only one, though. Much to his several people tittered, including Daruk. He put his head in his hands.

(The conversation would prompt Link to send a confused letter to his father soon after- asking why he’d never bothered to mention something so significant. The man’s reply three weeks later was a short and curt: _‘You didn’t ask.’_ He was right, actually. Link couldn't even remember his mother's name, and he perpetually managed to forget to interrogate his father.)

“Am I related to you?” Link questioned Purah, terrified of the thought that he might share any family ties to the woman.

“Ehh,” she thought about it very hard. “If we are it’s super distant. Can’t even think of where it might connect.”

He sighed with relief; Purah threw a piece of meat at him, snarking some sort of insult, too.

Link had plenty of other questions he wanted to ask, but not in front of twenty nosy strangers. He resigned to brood on the subject. It wasn’t anything groundbreaking, but it left him with plenty to think about. Plenty of dots to connect, actually.

The conversation quickly diverged from that topic. Predictably, it was to Guardians. He shared a defeated look with Daruk, and the two of them went about picking at their meals for the rest of that dinner.

  


* * *

  


An hour later, Daruk was snoring in his seat, and the Sheikah had all meandered off to their camp. Zelda and Link were off to the inn, but the princess quickly became distracted by one of Goron City’s infamous pools of water.

Her feet dangled in the hot spring. She lazily kicked at it, the surface rippling. Link sat cross legged on the other side of the small spring, dipping his hand in it. The fireproof elixirs made that water feel warm, and it was relaxing after their long day.

“Are you feeling better?” she inquired as she tapped her shoulder.

Link nodded. The potion she’d given him helped. 

“That’s good,” she murmured. Her hands moved to her lap, and she continued observing the water in silence alongside him.

“You’re not going to scold me?” he asked quietly. He didn’t know why he asked. Maybe he wanted to be admonished by her.

“Perhaps I’ll do it later when I have more energy... It seems pointless, though. Brave to a fault as you are, it makes you a glutton for halfwitted stunts.”

Despite throwing insults at him, there was a tangible fondness in her tone. Past the steam floating between them, he could see a hint of a smile on her face, too. Distant and muddled with stray thoughts. As a result, the girl made her own absentminded comment:

“It’s why I always have an elixir handy, didn’t you realize?”

He didn’t. It made him stare at her a little more intently.

In hindsight, it was obvious. When he was younger, he was always covered in bruises and cuts, but now they were faded. Nearly imperceptible in her presence. It didn’t occur to him that she’d gone out of her way like that; no one had ever paid any mind to his wounds before.

It was the same with his mother: proper questions had never occurred to him. A mother who was more absent than his father, after all? What with everything he had heard about mothers, it didn’t seem possible. That coupled with a few vague and reticent comments from the man led him to dismiss the possibility she was alive by the time he was seven.

(Link would find his mind stalling on that fact a century later. Mulling it over just as he'd done at that hot spring. He knew he'd been too scared of hurting the man, because there'd always been a thought planted in his head that made him forever bury the subject- it was a theory that his father may have never mentioned it simply because he was unwilling to relive the pain of her memory. A childlike fear. The result of never knowing how to approach a man who kept no secrets, yet was somehow more enigmatic than Hyrule's king.

Either way, if it was a mystery that was eventually solved, he simply didn’t have the memory of it yet.)

Zelda’s next words were surprising, pulling him out of his thoughts. “Are you still hungry?”

Link didn’t answer; he waited for her to elaborate. The princess opened her pack, digging around in it. He could hear rocks rustling alongside bits of clinking metals or glass- something breaking, probably. She had a terrible habit of stuffing things at random in that bag. Whenever he opened it, it looked like bedlam within a sack. It was a miracle she could find anything in there.

When she snatched up whatever she was looking for, Zelda padded over to him, kneeling.

 _“Ta da!”_ The princess sang, brandishing a small box. She opened the lid to reveal a small cake. “I know it’s very late, but I wanted to get you _something_ for your birthday.”

“It’s... not melting?” He was too distracted by that for the reality that Zelda had baked him a cake to set in. It should have been a miserable puddle in that heat.

She had a toothy grin. “You noticed? I knew we were going into the mountain so I mixed the glaze over it with fireproof elixir. You can’t even taste it!” Zelda paused. “...W-Well, there might be a little aftertaste, but after seeing you eat that rock, I’m fairly certain you’ll eat just about anything.”

Link took it from her. Her eyes bore into him, waiting and unblinking. He was suddenly very self-conscious. “...You’re going to watch me eat?”

A sharp nod. “I want to know what you think. And be honest! I plan to keep trying until I get it right.”

Giving in, he took a piece and ate it. She bit her lip nervously, and just to tease her, he pretended to think hard on it- scrutinizing the taste.

“Well?” Zelda pressed. “How is it?”

When he nodded approvingly, she leaned back to clap gleefully.

Link offered the other slice to her. She tried to refuse, saying it was all for him, but his glare encouraged her to accept it.

It was several minutes later that Zelda sighed: her mood sobering as she stared into that tinted water yet again. “I have a feeling you’ll get mad at me for saying this, but I am truly sorry for what happened in the desert.”

She was right, yet he knew better than to belittle her for it. Link was already aware guilt was often not something that could be dictated by logic; it would haunt a person, regardless of whether it had any right to or not.

And so, he asked: “Why?”

“You were forced to take care of me in ways that were uncalled for,” her expression was empty. “I am thankful, but I shouldn’t have burdened you with the worst side of me.” Zelda looked at him when she spoke her next words, her face still shrouded behind a decade-old mask. “I mustn't force you to carry the weight of my mother’s death again.”

There was a shrug. Link took it in stride. “It’s fair. I did something similar to you.”

“How?” She wasn’t expecting that.

That tent. He remembered sitting in it, his back facing her in stubborn silence. Zelda was floundering at that excavation, desperately trying to make sense of his apparent hatred for her. And then, for nearly a year he would ghost past her in the castle: refusing to even look her in the eye as he knelt to the ground, hoping she would see him as nothing more than another fragile vase lining the halls.

He couldn’t help but think he may have contributed to her gradual breakdown in the desert. There were simply too many things weighing on her at once, and Link’s vacant stare was no small addition.

He’d been inexcusably cold to her. Zelda had as well, but she had addressed that fact long ago, and made amends in leaps and bounds. He was the only one who had yet to properly apologize. Even worse, at the Wetlands Stables he’d fooled her into believing that protocol was the one and only reason he’d behaved that way.

But it wasn’t, and the fact that she wanted to be friends with him at all was shocking.

“I lied to myself, thinking I could control my emotions during that first year,” his tone was level, but he wouldn’t hide the hurt behind it anymore. Brick by brick, he’d thought. It wasn’t enough to let her gradually discover who he was. There were some things that needed to be said- to be confirmed by his own mouth. 

Zelda may have been a descendant of the Goddess, but she was far from omnipotent.

And so, he launched into something that could easily be considered a rant:

“There were so many people watching me- I could barely speak, even to my own father. I thought bottling everything up made me a good example like yours wanted, but I wound up losing control after the ceremony... At this point, I’m not staying quiet to be a good example, but because I’m constantly angry and frightened of doing the wrong thing. I'm not built for being paraded around that castle like some prize horse.”

They were Terry’s words, but they were true.

He faced her, frowning deeply. “I never hated you, but I forced you to deal with the worst side of me for much longer. If anyone should have apologized on Naboris, it’s me.” Link gestured to the empty box, smiling bitterly. “I don’t deserve this after everything I did, but I’m thankful.”

Zelda took all of it in stride.

“Terry did tell me something like that, but I am glad I got to hear it from your perspective.” She laughed, “It’s also a comfort to be assured you didn’t hate me. I couldn’t wrap my head around why you would have agreed to be friendly with me at those stables if you did.”

Apparently, she thought it was shocking he was willing to be friends with her, too.

“-I thought that I must have grown on you like some sort of stray cat.”

He gave her a rueful look, smiling a little more genuinely at that. Just how many times would they be quoting that man?

The girl resumed kicking her legs in the hot spring. She leaned back as she grinned at him, hair trailing against the stone beneath her. “You and I, we really aren’t that different, are we?”

“Unfortunately for Hyrule,” he stated.

That earned a snicker or two from Zelda.

It was the end of their confusion, he hoped. No more inhibitions to get in the way.

Well, most of them. There were one or two secrets he would rather take to the grave.

“I still don’t understand why the blade lets me carry it,” Zelda mused as they wandered down the mountain back to their inn. “Is it because I am not a stranger to you?”

He thought about it, and then: “The Deku Tree told me only Hylia’s descendant could put it back into its pedestal.”

There were many implications to that statement, but the one she eventually settled on was a simple question.

“Putting it back...?” Zelda slowed, looking up at him. “...Did you try?”

His breath caught in his throat.

“No- the Calamity,” he lied. “The Deku Tree said after the Calamity I’d return it.”

It was the first time he’d ever mentioned it- the Calamity. He didn’t like the way those words tasted. Rancid.

Zelda looked back at the town below, her mind addled by that information. “It’s... my blood then, is it?”

There was a long enough gap between her words that he thought that was the end of it, but she continued with another question, “Would you humor me? If you had the option to give up that blade now, would you do it, Link?”

The mountain breathed deep, and wind rolled up the slopes. Heavy and pushing at her back as he stood wordless- already hating the sour taste of yet another lie that he couldn't seem to force off his tongue.

Without an answer, she nudged her foot a little further into the door. “You told me you wanted it, but you’ve also told me you hate the attention it brings. Which is more powerful? What if- what if we found another who could bear that sword? What would you do?”

So inquisitive, those round eyes of hers. He couldn't fathom why she was so insistent on chasing after questions with impossible answers. It was an odd thing to admire yet find so strange at once.

“I don’t know the answer to that, Zelda,” was his honest response.

It baffled him, the sudden flash of pain across her face. “...Oh, I'm sorry. I pried too much again.”

She turned to leave, but Link stopped her by her wrist. “Why are you upset?” he demanded when she startled.

Zelda’s mouth pressed into a thin line- a toad once more. But, eventually, she spoke.

“...If you were to hand it off, I would lose you- as a friend,” she quickly added that last part. “But it’s self-righteous of me to expect you to include me in that decision. We’ve only gotten to know each other in the last few months, after all, and your peace of mind would be worth far more to the both of us.”

“What makes you think you would lose me?”

The princess shrugged in a manner that was all too similar to him. “I don’t know... It is a baseless fear.”

The sigh that came out of him was heavy. Shadows melted over his face- his back against the red glow of Death Mountain. That light would reach Zelda’s. Her skin glowing and warm and her clothes dyed a murky indigo.

There was plenty he could say. Under certain circumstances he would give up the Sword, and under other circumstances, he wouldn’t. It all depended on whether he could keep his current way of life. Traveling, battling, or spending time with this strange new source of light.

That’s what it depended on. If he could give up the Sword and its political responsibilities, yet maintain his life as something more than a simple guard, he would do it in a heartbeat. The sword on his back was one that was double edged, and he doubted there would ever be a reality in which he could turn one of them blunt.

Nonetheless, explaining all the nuances of that to Zelda would no doubt stretch the entire night, so he simply assured her:

“The Master Sword isn’t what ties me to you.” It was embarrassing to confess; it was far too close to the real truth for his liking- drifting just outside the door which his feelings were locked behind. He finally let go of her hand, but his fingers stayed there- ghosting across her sleeve. “What you said to Terry is true for me, too. I like you.”

She claimed her statement had been friendly, but her face turned a little too red for that to be the case. It made him squint. Link was certainly dense and doubtful most hours of the day, but there were some things even he wouldn’t overlook.

“I see,” she sputtered. “I am relieved to hear that, thank you.”

Eyes fell away, her arm following. The princess turned away one more time, but Link stubbornly snatched her hand again.

 _“What?”_ Zelda was clearly starting to get tired of his last second demands.

“I’m changing the terms of our deal,” he snapped. “Never assume you’re worth less than this sword, either, or I swear I’ll dump a pot of water on your head.”

Zelda squawked, offended. “Excuse me?”

“Do you want me to change it to the old milk you keep forgetting to drink?”

“What-”

“Going once-”

“Now, this is a little unfair-”

“Going twice-”

 _“Fine!”_ Zelda yanked her arm out of his grip. She was fuming, but the weight on her shoulders was gone. “Water it is!”

He put his hands up, relenting only now that he'd gotten what he was after. She growled at his smug face.

“Good choice.” With that, he walked by, patting her head once as he went. “I’m tired, let’s go to sleep already.”

“If there were any sticks around here you’d be in trouble!” Zelda threatened as she stomped after him. 

“You couldn’t grab a rock?”

“You’d dodge, I need something with proper reach!” The girl had a strategy forming. That might be a cause for concern.

“Remind me to hide your speed elixirs,” he muttered.

Zelda gasped. “Your temperature, I forgot to take it! _Come here!”_

A second later, she was chasing him down the mountain, the Gorons below most definitely scratching their heads at that sight.

  
  



	12. A Slippery Slope: Final

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. I should probably be apologizing to Link after writing this chapter  
> 2\. Again, Daruk is highly underrated  
> 

Returning to that inn was where his memory ended.

Fragments remained, however: somewhere on a precipice, Robbie stared at Link. The look on his face was morbid; he seemed unsure- afraid of something.

There was the feeling of Zelda’s breath ghosting across his skin, her arms wrapped around his neck- crushing.

The last of it was holding Daruk’s boulder breaker in his own hands: the Goron’s face split into a brilliant grin that no one in Hyrule could match.

Next to them was an odd spring, its shape like a turtle’s back. Rock was tumbling. Link was smashing at stone- Daruk’s laughter at the edge of his awareness as he tore away at the earth right alongside him.

To put it bluntly: he hated it- not knowing. So much so that it was suddenly a cause for worry.

He'd paced in circles the night after Yunobo left him in that mining shaft- weighing the itch of curiosity against the danger of seeking out more memories despite what Impa and Zelda pushed for.

It seemed he was having too much trouble divorcing himself from the past these days; he especially kept forgetting that he shouldn't spend hours thinking about green's place in the world, desperately searching for some other explanation as to why he was so attracted to the color that didn't involve a girl.

Trees, maybe. He liked forests and grass. Not princesses. Not these days. Definitely _not._

Inevitably, Link found himself standing with Daruk's boulder breaker in hand two days later in front of that same spring. He’d found it just South of Goron City’s mining camps. There was practically a hole ripped through the cliffside; it looked like they’d gone on a rampage back then.

“Uh…” Yunobo asked from Link’s right. “What am I doin’ here, bud?”

He gestured to a cobble crusher he’d prepared ahead of time: the weapon laying against the wall.

“Help me mine,” he kindly demanded. 

“For what?”

“Rubies. To replace the one I took.”

“You _were_ stealing!” Yunobo exclaimed. “Why are you dragging me into it?!”

“Because it’ll be fun. We didn’t get to talk for long the other day.” He lifted his weapon with a grin, waving it like a bat. “Wanna see if we can break a wall with your power?”

A pause. A moment of consideration. Eventually, his face lit up at the suggestion.

Something had changed in that Goron after freeing Rudania. Yunobo was braver than he was before: adopting some of Daruk's unruly behavior even though they’d never even properly met. Or, maybe Link was just a bad influence.

With that, the Goron excitedly agreed, curled into a ball, and Link swung as hard as he could.

He should have seen it coming when Yunobo ricocheted off the wall- straight back into his face. The broken nose he got was still worth it, because when it knocked him unconscious, his memories snapped right back into place. 

  


* * *

  


_“Link,”_ The princess shouted doubtfully from atop a plateau he’d thrown her on. “Should we not be running?!”

It was bedlam. It was a simple hike gone wrong. It was as if Zelda had dumped her bag over the ridge- the sack being filled with monsters for some insane reason.

Link yelled back to insist she concentrate on keeping her head down and promptly returned to yanking a Lynel around by its mane. It wasn’t necessary, though. The Master Sword had turned out to be a literal monster magnet, and as a result, the princess was completely ignored by all seventy monsters diving at him.

He was forced to admit to himself that it was actually a challenge, what with seven Lynels trying to bite his head off. As per usual, they didn’t care if they incinerated the Bokoblins or Lizalfos at their side; Link nearly became a well done piece of meat alongside them at least four times.

But Robbie told him he was a devil, and he was right about that. It was probably a good thing Zelda couldn’t see the frightening grin on his face.

The princess was familiar with Link’s abilities, of course. But she’d certainly never seen him tear through that many creatures like some sort of out of control ripsaw. If it weren’t for the fact that half of them were bursting into mist, he’d probably be covered head to toe in blood and filth.

Rock tore through his gloves as he skidded, his hair singed by fire, and his legs numb from the lingering effects of shock arrows. 

Three minutes was all it took before he’d kicked up a spear and flung it through the last Lynel standing. It thudded to the earth, limp, and there was nothing but his heavy breathing to be heard. Sweat down his chin.

When he gathered himself enough to trek toward Zelda, her lips were moving. With his ears still ringing from the Lynels' howling, he could barely make out the words _‘creation’_ and _‘monster’._ It made him frown.

“What was that?” he asked from below.

Zelda merely shook her head. Link spread out his arms, and she leapt from that high edge without delay. The princess was still marveling at the carnage when he put her down. Several of the monsters were turning to mist, others slower to vanish. It looked like bubbles across a swamp.

There was the sound of something splattering against stone, prompting the two of them to turn their attention to blood that was seeping from his arm. He hadn’t even noticed the pain until that moment.

“Let me see,” she ordered.

It hurt: peeling off his sleeve. The princess winced when she scrutinized the wound. It was most likely a cut he’d gotten from a Lynel- the blade having gone straight through his arm guard. Her eyes moved upwards. More pain radiated from his forehead, and she brushed his hair aside to get a better look, fingers pressing against his skin.

Link wasn’t sure how he felt about being picked at by her. But at least Zelda wasn’t some goggled Sheikah man feeling up his biceps.

 _“That_ cut doesn’t look too bad, actually. You’re fine for now.” Her hand lowered, but she stayed kneeling. There was a stern look on her face that told him exactly what she was going to say next. “But you know, there’s a fine line between courage and recklessness. As brave as you are, that does not make you immortal.”

It was becoming a favorite phrase of hers: _‘Brave as you are’._

(Zelda had quickly turned into one of the many people who tried to scold him for his wild behavior. He wondered who would be the first to make any headway on the matter; maybe there was some competition he didn’t know about- tallies being added to a board. Maybe a picture of him was scribbled on it, devil horns and all.)

The princess returned to staring over the corpses scattered before them. She mused over the sheer scale of them. There was a moment that she looked frightened- her eyes wide and hollow before she turned her gaze downward to mutter:

“I fear that- I fear that this is an omen which portends the return of Calamity Ganon.”

Link wasn’t sure how she could stand to keep saying those words. It’d been over two weeks since he mentioned it at the hot springs, and there was still a foul taste in his mouth.

The end of the world? Hyrule, destroyed by a monster that hadn’t been seen for over ten thousand years? It sounded like superstitious garbage to him.

It wasn’t long before Zelda stood, determined, and dusted off her clothes. “And, if that’s the case, we’ll need to make preparations as soon as possible.”

With that, the princess forged a path ahead through the slaughter, her fear once again receding to the back of her mind. 

  


* * *

  


“Am I hallucinating?”

Link saw Purah standing at the edge of Goron City’s hot springs. The twelve Gorons circling around him looked as well, blinking at the woman. 

She rubbed her eyes at the scene before her, baffled. He didn’t know why she was surprised. The Sheikah woman had probably seen him doing far stranger things than powerlifting a four hundred pound Goron over his head.

Zelda looked up from her notes to offer a casual explanation. “We’re studying, of course,” she lifted the book and tapped her pen to it. “Look, I think we’ve finally discovered a limit to Link's physical strength.”

The princess addressed Link: “Do ten more repetitions, and then we shall move on to speed. Does that sound good?”

Link nodded. The Gorons continued to rabidly cheer him on, the one above his head included. At the same time, Purah flipped through Zelda’s notes. Her eyebrows raised, eyes wide. 

“....W-Wow, Your Highness, you, uh, ya sure do write about him a lot.”

“Yes! He’s so fascinating, isn’t he?!”

The expression on the woman’s face was hard to describe in one word. The closest comparison he could think of was that she had failed to properly hear what a stranger said four times in a row, and was caught between trying to decide whether she should ask them to say it again or simply pretend she’d understood what they said by nodding and laughing.

She wound up not responding at all.

At the end of it, he set down the Goron. The others immediately began to debate who would try to beat his record. 

“You’re not even winded?” Zelda asked- to which he shrugged. “Goodness, I should have had you do more.”

Link extended his arm, questioning if he should pick up another volunteer, but Purah interjected. “I don’t mean to interrupt your workout, but I need a favor from you.”

With a glance between the two of them, Zelda’s journal snapped shut and Link snatched up his sword.

He was awfully busy. Purah had joked about him being the king’s favorite _‘monster killing machine’,_ but she’d almost immediately surpassed that man in his enthusiasm. Nearly every moment on that mountain was spent being sent out to clear one path after the next, pull one heavy object after the next, or exact revenge on yet another pesky Talus.

Link didn’t mind; it kept his boredom at bay. Not to mention, it was more or less his job. Guarding Hyrule’s princess during her travels wasn’t his only responsibility, after all.

Surprisingly, he often didn’t have to worry about dividing his time between those two tasks.

Zelda had no reason to, being safe in Goron City or the Sheikah Camps, but in-between her own duties she’d elected to follow Link around as much as he did her in the beginning. The girl always seemed to be nearby after her morning prayers. She’d kick her legs as she sat reading atop a boulder, or tinkered with slate in the background as he conversed with Gorons.

He didn’t mind that, either. It reminded him of the way he’d follow his own father around for days on end as a child: rambling on about a horse or showing him a particularly interesting stick he’d found in the woods. Not once did he complain about his son’s presence. And not once did Link feel the need to complain about Zelda’s.

Their destination turned out to be the same precipice the ballistas had been positioned on. Purah walked over to the platform, stomped across the metal sheets, and pointed near the top of Death Mountain.

“So, ya know how we have that volcano off limits for Rudania’s testing?”

A nod.

“And, y’know how we’ve had it off limits for days now, and everyone entering Goron City has very _clearly_ been told it will be off limits?”

Two nods.

“Well,” Purah leaned in, a wild look in her eye. “You’d never guess it, but _somehow,_ despite all our warnings and big red signs, six Hylian clowns failed to get the memo and _ran past my goons!”_

She took a deep breath, most likely counting to ten in her head. “I need this test done by five, and Robbie apparently has a _very_ important date with Cherese at one, so congrats- you’re the next best person I can beg to scare those idiots off the mountain.”

The number stuck out to him. Link crossed his arms, tilting his head. “Was one of them blonde?”

“Yeah,” she sniffed. “Isn’t that common for you regular Hylians? No offense, Your Highness.”

There was a soft _‘oh, that’s alright,’_ before he continued his line of questioning, “Did one of them have freckles?”

Purah took out her Slate, flicking through some notes on it. “Yep. You know these clowns?”

“They’ve caused trouble before,” Link said as if he’d had nothing to do with it. “They're pesky.”

Her teeth bared when she growled, “Cockroaches. I want them _out_ of my house.”

The woman’s fury vanished immediately after, and she kindly promised to reward Link for his troubles: one favor for each straggler he dumped at her feet. There was a nod of agreement before he asked an unexpected question:

“When will Robbie be back?”

He could see the Slate’s blue reflection in her glasses when she looked up at him. “He told me around nine, maybe a little later knowin’ ‘im. Why? Whaddya need him for?”

He scratched his head as he replied: “I want to talk to him in private. I’m curious about something.”

When she blinked, he could tell she already knew what it was about. “You’re not gonna ask your dad?”

He shook his head; he wouldn’t explain any further. 

_‘You didn’t ask,’_ was his father’s inked reply. In his own way, he was telling Link he’d gladly discuss his Sheikah heritage if he was interested. And he would ask, but his mother’s death was one question better proposed to someone else, wasn't it? It was possible his father wouldn’t mind. It’d been nearly twenty years, after all- the wounds no doubt fading with time. But why risk it?

Link had no desire to dredge up unpleasant memories all for the sake of half-hearted curiosity. That was it. It was his clumsy way of trying to be considerate, really.

“I’ll send him over to ya later,” Purah assured him. She looked at the princess who had been a quiet observer throughout their exchange. “Your Highness, you should probably let him handle this alone.”

“Right.” 

She and Purah began their departure, but Link asked yet another unexpected question that stopped them in their tracks.

“Actually, Your Highness, I could use your help if you’re willing?”

When the two researchers turned, both of their eyes were wide- backs hunched over like a pair of squirrel monkeys. 

  


* * *

  


“How do you plan to find them?” Zelda asked as they skittered down a steep hill.

He glanced up at Death Mountain. There was no obvious sign of them. He could certainly prowl around for tracks, or check for discarded bottles of fireproof elixirs. Maybe even listen for the sound of screaming when one of them inevitably injured themselves. But ultimately, he was feeling a little too lazy for that.

He twisted on his heel to point at her.

“You,” he stated. The princess blinked more than once at that.

_“Me?”_

He retreated into his usual pose: back straight and hands on his hips. “I met these guys in Gerudo Town. They’ve got a weakness.”

“Which is?”

“Beautiful women,” he said flippantly, and rolled his eyes as he continued. “I just need you to stand in place yelling about needing help and they’ll come running.”

“I- I’m-” Zelda stammered, turning red. A malfunctioning Guardian..

Link tried to encourage a proper response from her. “...Are you against that plan?”

“You think I’m comely?” she eventually choked out, her hands wringing together. “Me? Goodness-”

“Comely?” He pretended to look confused. “What does that mean?”

“I-I’m just referring to what you called-”

It wasn’t until she noticed the smug look on his face that she stamped her foot. “You! You’re teasing me! How dare you!”

He swatted away her anger, amused as he continued walking. “Only because you reacted that way. I didn’t think it would surprise you that much.”

Link didn’t need to see her to know her hands were clenched into angry fists when she marched after him. 

“I appreciate your kind words, but I was merely caught off guard,” she huffed. “The last time I heard you compliment anything was when you said Guardians _‘looked cool’_ two years ago.”

He scratched his head, thinking over it. It probably shouldn’t have taken him so long to come up with a defense. “I complimented Biljana.”

“By telling her she looked like a fat seal with a mustache?”

They matched each other's gaze. Zelda was awfully patient, waiting for him to refute that statement.

“...When you put it that way-”

“Exactly. I think my point has been made.”

Zelda strode past him, taking the lead in more ways than one. Link followed after a moment later, grumbling curses.

In reality, he had no idea how high the men would have managed to climb Death Mountain until they were forced to rest; he had very little concept of a normal person’s stamina. As a result, the princess wound up having more than one use on that outing. In his head, Link would compare her to a dog of sorts: a tool that would help him sniff out what elevation the men may have stopped at.

He gladly would have mentioned that part of his plan to her, but after reflecting on his generous compliment to Biljana- he had rethink that particular idea. Calling the princess of Hyrule a dog? _Unwise._

“We’ll stop here,” Link nodded briskly at a girl doubled over and panting.

“I can keep going,” Zelda heaved, reaching into her bag for a green elixir. Her dedication was admirable, but he insisted it wasn’t necessary.

Link pointed, and the princess craned her neck to see what he was directing her to. It was a high ledge: flat at the top- just wide enough for her to stand on it and overlook a large portion of the trails. He boosted her up by her foot, launching her several feet. Dirt and rocks flew as she scrambled on top of it. He shielded his eyes from the debris until her boots disappeared over the edge, and a second later, she peered down at him inquisitively.

“What now?”

“I’m going to hide,” he explained, “Start yelling that you can’t get down. Make it sound really urgent.”

“Oh... alright then,” she said a little meekly as she watched him disappear behind a stray boulder.

Zelda stood stall, clearing her throat. The princess didn’t seem to have a passion for theatre, but she must have picked up a thing or two from her tutors at the castle. Her plea was passionate, one that any stranger nearby couldn’t possibly have ignored:

_“Help me! Please, I’m stuck upon a ledge! I need a man with strong arms to help me down or I fear I may be trapped forever!”_

She continued yelling every so often while he leaned against his boulder, yawning. It wasn't until ten minutes passed that Link heard the sound of footfalls, and his mouth twisted into a grin. All six of their prey poked their heads out from the rocks, bewildered and curious.

They seemed hesitant until they saw Zelda staring down at them from her ledge. The princess was an angelic sight: hair glowing in the afternoon sun, fluttering in the wind as she pressed her hands to her chest. Emerald eyes sparkled- wide and doe-like.

The more foolish members of the group shot forward. A familiar blonde stayed back, looking put out by the entire venture. There was no doubt he knew it was all highly suspicious.

“Are you alright, miss?!”

That was the only question they managed before Link darted out from his nook. Within seconds, five of them were on the ground, groaning in pain after being hit with his scabbard. He didn’t have to hit the blonde, though. Then man stood, hands in the air and looking exceptionally disgruntled.

“To think we would meet again as enemies,” he mused.

“Regrettable.” Link agreed, lowering his sword. He trudged over to Zelda’s ledge, and just as she did before, the girl leapt without hesitation. It was as he put her down that he began his interrogation, “What are you doing here?”

“Record breaking,” one of them croaked from the ground. “Highest climb up Death Mountain by a Hylian.”

Was that really their whole schtick?

“We got tired of waiting,” the freckled one explained. He tried to sit up, but Link shoved him back down with his sword’s sheath. The man crossed his arms, pouting up at him. “First Rudania was loose, and then they locked down the mountain for tests. We’re on a time crunch, man.”

“Blondie,” Link turned his attention to the only one standing.

“My name is Reginald,” the man snapped.

For a moment, he was silent, and then: 

“I’ll stick with blondie,” Link continued over his fervent protests. “Let’s make a deal. I’ll tell you the best path up the mountain if you do something for me.”

“Link,” Zelda warned. “Purah said to bring them back.”

“That’s what I’m doing, Your Highness.”

Reginald suddenly paled. “Your Highness?!”

Link ignored his shock. “Anyway, I need you to leave the mountain for today as my prisoners, and then I promise you’ll be allowed to climb it tomorrow.”

“We’re already halfway up!” one of the prone men complained.

The blonde scoffed. “We weren’t going to make it anyway! You were all whining the path was too steep!”

They started bickering. Link scowled.

Zelda took a step forward, becoming a soft voice of reason. “Now, what’s one more day? Why don’t you rest up at our camp for the night? I, for one, would love to hear more about these records you have broken.”

There was a split second that they were all quiet before letting out hushed murmurs of agreement, the fight leaving all of them at once. Who could refuse an opportunity to brag to a princess? Link could only marvel at how easy it was to bait them.

Rudania was already being prepared for its newest test run. It stood atop a peak not too far off: blue flashing in heartbeats. He could see Daruk performing one of his usual stretches- his motions coordinating with the Beast’s movements. He even saw the Goron waving at one point, noticing Link and Zelda’s brightly colored silhouettes against Death Mountain’s soot-covered earth.

They walked a distance behind the goons as they descended. Their banter was nonsensical; he heard something about the longest time spent underwater, or the longest time spent paragliding.

How any of them were still alive was starting to become a mystery. Even Zelda seemed perplexed every time she managed to overhear one of them.

“This Purah isn’t going to hurt us, are they, Your Royal Highness?” the freckled goon questioned. Several were still rubbing their arms or heads where Link had smacked them.

“Of course not,” Zelda assured them. She was lying, of course. “I promise you will be treated as esteemed guests.”

Blondie opened his mouth to say something doubtful and rude, and Link went to cut him off- but even he was interrupted.

The ground began to shake violently enough to send the entire group stumbling. A piece of metal cascaded over their heads from somewhere higher up the mountain, and Lizalfos appeared as well, stirred into a frenzy by the quakes. The monsters skidded to a halt on both sides, hissing. The other men started to yell in panic.

Link immediately unsheathed his sword. Zelda screamed at him, frantic. 

_“We should be running, Link!”_

Again? He wanted to refuse, but before he could even do that, she yanked him by the hair and jerked his head to look up the mountain. 

There was an avalanche. No, perhaps that wasn’t fitting. It was more like a tidal wave or a mudslide. Finding an accurate comparison didn’t really matter, though, because at the end of the day it was just a giant wave of lava.

Now, admittedly, Link was never the type to panic. 

Only on the rarest occasions did such a thing happen. He certainly had never screamed in panic either. Unfortunately, it was the first of many seemingly impossible things that would happen to him that day.

He didn’t have time to dwell on any of it. The only sensible thing to do was run.

All eight of them scrambled down that mountain. It was a straight path down, and with the lava’s spread, shooting off to the side was hardly an option.

It was an unexpected moment of solidarity, but even the Lizalfos ignored them, scattering off in different directions. The Earth was still rumbling beneath their feet, and sheets of metal cartwheeled over their heads as the roar of lava grew ever closer. The magma was faster than they were. Even if Link threw Zelda over his shoulder, they wouldn't make it. Even he couldn’t outrun a torrent of lava. Link viciously cursed his younger self for getting bored of carrying a shield.

Rudania howled. So did Daruk.

The Goron was far closer than he was before, waving his arm atop the Beast’s head. 

_“Little guys! Over here!”_ He bellowed.

Rudania approached fast- clambering towards them as quickly as Daruk could pilot it. Luckily, the other six cued into the plan. All eight of them ran up small outcropping: a ledge angled higher off the mountain side. When the Beast crouched beneath them, they leapt. 

Some rolled onto Rudania’s slate, and others barely managed to grab the edge. Zelda tripped, nearly falling over with a yelp. Link caught her by her waist and used her momentum to throw her for a third time that week: sending her tumbling into the Beast’s courtyard. When he lunged after her, his shoulder was crushed into the slate yet again. He heard- and certainly felt- something crack.

The magma caught up hardly a second after Rudania rose to its feet. When the torrent rushed by, its sound was like steam and water all at once. It was a force that made even that Divine Beast stumble- grasping for purchase with another howl. They rose quickly, wind carrying away the heat below, but even from such a distance, the steam from that lava was scalding.

It wasn't until the machine steadied itself that Link managed to sit up. He winced as he counted heads. Several of the men were still crawling over the edge, but somehow, by the grace of both Daruk and the Goddess, all eight of them had made it. Albeit they were highly bruised, broken, and exhausted, he'd take it.

He spied Zelda starfished against the cool stone: her mouth open like a fish out of water as she tried to catch her breath.

She seemed fine, at least. And so, he fell back down to the slate.

“Are you guys alright?!” Daruk came barreling into the courtyard.

With groans of pain, all eight of them raised their thumbs to the sky. 

  


* * *

  


Rudania’s feet were still ablaze when Daruk guided it back to the Sheikah Camp.

The list of injuries was long. The goons each sported some sort of broken nose or bruised foreheads, Link was certain his shoulder wouldn’t work properly for another week, and Zelda couldn’t walk on her left leg- having sprained her ankle when she tripped.

Purah had no doubt been planning to beat some sense into the trespassers, but seeing them all crawl pathetically into camp made even her show mercy. For the moment.

Once Zelda was ushered away to have her injuries looked at, the Sheikah woman very curtly told Link he was never allowed to take Zelda on another hike near Death Mountain again. He’d agreed wholeheartedly with that. Even he had no desire to go back, and the goons certainly wouldn’t be, either. Although, no one was dumb enough to believe the event had scared them straight.

He was fortunate; whatever happened in Purah’s camp stayed there, and thus, he didn’t have to worry about Rhoam having a conniption over the incident. The thought gave him chills. Hiding the Master Sword was one thing, but hiking his daughter up a mountain only for her to be nearly sacrificed to the volcano? In hindsight, that was something he could have easily avoided if he hadn't been a lazy tracker.

With the princess off receiving treatment for her foot, Link was left to his own devices again. Daruk had tapped on his shoulder when he saw him standing dumbly in the middle of camp. It was a relief when he invited him to tag along for Rudania’s tests, and Link didn't hesitate to take him up on that offer. They hadn't been able to spend much time in each other's company, after all.

A horn blared, and the Beast rumbled to life. The Sheikah had set up a difficult path- an obstacle course of sorts- for Daruk to navigate. The Goron and his Beast passed their trials with ease, moving as quickly as they did when Link's entourage was nearly swallowed up by magma. He seemed relieved, finally being able to settle comfortably into his role as Champion.

The chained emblem around Daruk rattled when he stretched again, throwing his arms into the sky.

“I tell you what… sure is blast piloting a toy like this around.” His rough voice dipped into something serious when he looked down at Link, declaring, “Let those other Champions know they’d better eat their gravel if they wanna keep up with Daruk.”

Link found himself staring out at that mountain with him. If he was being honest, the size of it all didn’t quite sink in until that moment. Death Mountain was a vast force of nature; its hills were colossal, easily dwarfing the Divine Beast that called it home.

Each of the Champions loved their homes dearly, but Link couldn’t help but feel Daruk’s passion was more or less unrivaled. That much became clear to him when the Goron continued on:

“I may not know a whole lot about this _Calamity Ganon_ thing… but mark my words, I’ll protect this land of ours to the death! Right, little guy?”

The medal on his chest gleamed in the sunlight as Daruk leaned back, his hand raised high before he sent Link nearly catapulting into the slate with it. The Goron had been waiting for weeks to do that, he knew.

“Hey, by the way…” he said as Link recovered from the blow. “Congrats on becoming the princess’ appointed knight. That’s a really big deal! Protecting the king’s daughter…” he could barely contain his laughter when he patted Link gently, snarking, _“No pressure!”_

Oh, there was plenty. While Link had been getting along with Zelda far better than before- it’d made other things even more difficult. Trying to maintain distance, trying not to let the people around them catch him breaking code or etiquette, or whatever they would want to call it- was becoming habitually more difficult.

Link could tell that even Purah was starting to have her suspicions.

While their relationship was far from anything scandalous, there were plenty of faceless court members who would frown deeply at their friendship. He could hear those malignant whispers before they were even voiced, and it left him downright paranoid.

Daruk must have realized that to a degree; the Goron had a stronger grasp on the emotions of the people around him than most gave him credit for, and he was clearly worried when he tried to offer some advice- maybe a little hesitant. “Seriously, though. The princess is a strong personality- so strong she can’t quite see the range for the peaks.”

It was true, he thought. Zelda had tunnel vision: convincing herself that her shortcomings were a mountain too tall to conquer. Link may have had the same problem himself.

Something foul must have been lurking in Death Mountain, because there was another quake that interrupted their one-sided conversation. It was even stronger than before; pieces of Death Mountain chipped off- spiraling into the air. When a boulder plunged towards them, Daruk hardly even flinched when he thrust his fists towards it.

The warm glow of his barrier was quickly obscured by dust enveloping the Beast’s courtyard. Splinters of rock cut into Link’s face. He shut his eyes, wincing against the dirt threatening to blind him.

Just as quickly as it happened, however, it was over. 

“All right, so what was I saying…” Distracted. He hardly seemed phased, but something crept up, bothering him when he turned back to measure the peaks before them. “That was a little strange… As far as I know, Death Mountain has been quiet for _decades.”_

At that point, he was talking to himself. Link stared up, trying to see whatever danger Daruk saw lurking behind those mountains.

“But if the mountain is shivering enough to send down a bunch of boulders that size, then- Never mind, forget I said anything.”

He cut himself off, closing his eyes dismissively. He didn’t seem convinced of his own words.

Link averted his gaze, as well. He could feel that disgusting word- _Calamity_ \- on his tongue: a baseless fear worming its way into the back of his mind. The monsters, the quakes- it was a myth, he told himself. There was nothing superstitious about a simple earthquake, no matter how deeply it unsettled the Goron at his side. 

  


* * *

  


By the time his venture with Daruk was over, night had descended. The other Champion yawned, said his hearty goodbyes, and rolled off to no doubt eat rocks until he passed out. The day reaped enough excitement for all of them, after all. It was impressive. Draining that Goron’s energy was no small feat.

Somehow, against all odds, tiring out Zelda was a far more difficult task. She’d still found the energy to busy herself with her studies. Link had stood quietly at the mouth of her tent, his hand brushing the fabric away.

She didn’t notice; her back was to him, notes once again scattered around her as she flipped through texts or screwed pieces of technology into place. He'd come only to tell her it was time to return to their inn, but the quick movements of her hands and the darting of her head made him reluctant to pull her away from it. And so, he slipped away with a small grin, leaving her to her candlelight and flickering slate.

Another speck of blue glowed in the darkness when he turned. Robbie. Watching him- his goggles in place as always. He trekked up to him as the man spoke, hands on his hips in a manner that reminded Link too much of himself.

“I hear you finally have questions.”

Link continued past him, and Robbie followed.

The ballista precipice had turned out to be a common meeting place for all of them. Although, it was devoid of any activity when they traipsed across its metal dock. He leaned away from a harsh updraft. The wind was surprisingly cool that night- by the standards of a fireproof elixir. It was always something to marvel at during the evenings: Death Mountain a pillar of light in the dark.

“How was your date?” Link asked over his shoulder. He figured it was better that he didn’t start a conversation immediately launching into questions regarding his mother’s early demise.

“Superb.” he crowed. It didn’t sound like he was being sarcastic.

When Robbie came to a stop next to Link, he asked:

“What was her name?”

“Harlow,” he stated, but snorted a moment after. It seemed out of place until he added, “Your father mistook her name for _Harlot,_ if I recall. It didn’t go well for the man.”

“Are you sure it was an accident?”

Robbie cackled. “That’s what she believed, but I heard his shock after having a pint of beer thrown over his head was far too genuine for that to be the case.”

As he would find out, his mother had been born into a line of warrior Sheikah. Robbie had been as well, but like Purah, his passions diverged as a researcher. And so, he rarely crossed paths with the woman. He was much younger, as well, and was still in training when Link’s mother was sent off to Central Hyrule.

Robbie made a very loud thinking noise when he crossed his arms. “If there’s anything I can say about her, it’s that she was clever. An excellent strategist.” He sniffed. “She was very similar to your father, actually. They performed their duties flawlessly, but their personal lives were rather… _messy.”_

“I was an accident, wasn’t I?” Link deadpanned.

“...Very much so. It was after they were married, at least.”

His finger tapped against the scabbard in his hand. Whatever else he wanted to know, he’d present to his father, except for his final question.

“How’d she die?”

The man paced a little. “I don’t know if I should answer that,” he admitted. “Now that I think about it, it may be somewhat understandable that your father never brought it up.”

Robbie’s movements came to a halt abruptly. He turned on his heel, breathing deep when he lifted his goggles to stare at Link. There it was: the hesitance he’d remembered. 

_“However,_ you're grown now. I’m sure you have dealt with harder subjects.”

Robbie watched Link carefully for some time; perhaps he was looking for a hint of weakness- anything that would tell him it was best to retract that statement. He must have seen nothing in his passive expression, because the Sheikah continued rather bluntly.

“She fell ill, and died very quickly after your birth.”

“How quickly?”

“Moments.”

He blinked. The news made him feel a little hollowed. If he felt an emotion, he wasn’t certain what it was. “...You mean I killed her?”

“Don’t be daft,” Robbie scolded. “They were complications out of anyone’s control.”

A small worry budded in Link. The man had to have seen it in his face, because he amended: 

“I’m _certain_ your father doesn’t blame you, either, boy. You were a terror running around the house at only three months- and he was a... _strange_ parent from the sound of it, but not once did he look at you with contempt.”

While there was a small, exceptionally foolish part of Link that doubted that, he nodded and did the best he could to drill Robbie’s words into his head.

He’d never been very interested in learning about his mother until Death Mountain, but knowing what he did now made him feel a little remorseful in a different way. Link had unknowingly been a part of her death, after all. His apathetic behavior seemed disrespectful to the woman’s memory.

Maybe that’s what his father was afraid of: instilling guilt in a child. Although Link had been reluctant to pry, he was beginning to think that it might’ve been best for them to have a proper conversation about it.

There were probably a myriad things they needed to address, his mother’s death aside.

However, the day had been long, and for the time being, he had no desire to dwell on the subject. It seemed Robbie didn’t either.

 _“Now!”_ Robbie declared as he flipped down his goggles. “If you don’t have any further questions, I must be getting back to my beloved Cherese.”

Link thanked Robbie and they parted ways- but not before the Sheikah yelled a snide comment over his shoulder.

“Despite what you might have assumed, I assure you that it wasn’t your father whom you inherited your temper from!”

Those words were unexpected enough that it made him laugh- loudly. He was thankful; it lifted his spirits.

Link elected to return to camp- thinking maybe he'd steal some food from a couple of the Sheikah who were foolish enough to cook food in his presence. Although, his plans were interrupted when he rounded a corner only to see Purah gazing down at him. It made him flinch. The nighttime made her all the more intimidating, and sometimes, he forgot that woman was nearly three heads taller than him.

“Hey, chuckle face,” her greeting didn’t make much sense, as usual. “It’s late. Aren’t you two going to head back?”

“Z-” he corrected himself as quickly as he could, “Her Highness is still working.”

Link couldn’t tell if that slip up went unnoticed, because she chuckled derisively. “Not anymore. Those pain meds finally clonked her out. Like this-”

Purah lifted her clipboard and pressed her cheek against it, snoring. “Pretty sure Her Highness' face is _glued_ to those papers. You might need to peel ‘em off.”

“Shouldn’t Her Highness spend the night here?” he questioned as she sauntered off.

“Nope, we’re gonna blow some stuff up.”

Right, that’d been a stupid question.

Purah was entirely correct in that Zelda was not only in a medicinal coma, but had inked papers glued to her face. He almost wished he’d seen it: the princess gracefully face-planting onto her desk.

He’d tried to wake her, poking her with his sword's sheath, but to no avail. With resignation, Link slung her over his back and began the descent to Goron City. He could see the lights flickering below when he passed the hot springs; a few tourists were still floating in and out of the city gates. Like beacons undulating over dark waters.

Zelda’s arms dangled over his shoulders. She was limp, her head rolling against the crook of his neck. Link could do nothing but pray she wasn’t drooling all over him.

Even though his hands were tucked into her knees, the princess slipped. It was when Link shifted her back into place that she stirred ever so slightly. Zelda’s head didn’t even lift when she started grumbling incoherently. At the very least, he was able to make out:

“-carrying me, Link?”

“No,” he joked. “You’re dreaming.”

“Oh…” Instead of falling back asleep, she continued to slur like a drunk. “Good dream.”

“Why’s that?”

Another incoherent grumble. And then:

“...Missed it.”

Link continued to humor her. “Missed what?”

“You smiled… after the cave…” her head lulled to the side. “...then you wouldn't… I’m happy I got to see it again.”

Well, wasn’t that cute? Link resolved to tease her about it later, but her next words dashed that idea.

“...Might’ve been a mistake.”

Maybe he shouldn’t have pressed, but he did. “...Why?”

Her arms wrapped a little tighter around his neck. She nestled closer, her breath ghosting across his skin and making him shiver. Groggy as she was, she sounded a little pained when she murmured quietly in his ear.

“...I think... it made me fall in love with you.”

His heart leapt at the opportunity to choke him.

Zelda’s touch had suddenly become more searing than Death Mountain’s lava. Link’s knee-jerk reaction to those words was that he wanted to drop her, but didn't. He barely managed to keep his composure. For the first time in his life, it made him grateful for all of Impa's and Rhoam's relentless training on self-control. Well- from an outside perspective. His mind continued to sprint laps around the length of Death Mountain- stumbling drunken and destructive just like that mechanical lizard staring down at them. Had he been struck by lightning? Maybe. Probably. It felt like it. No strength in his legs.

It may have been the opposite of what anyone would expect from someone in his position, but he desperately wanted her to laugh or giggle- to say it was a joke, yet she never did; the stupid girl had fallen back asleep at the worst possible time. He was caught between wanting to smack her awake and demand a proper explanation, or pretend he’d never heard anything.

Would she even remember? Was it just the ramblings of her medication? Was she messing with him? No- the Zelda he knew would gawk at the thought of joking about something like that.

It was an understatement to say that Link wanted to scream curses; he was left dangling cruelly with no safety net beneath him.

Love? Is that what she said? _Love?!_

He was going to faint, he was certain.

Despite the chaos in his mind, Link kept a steady pace to the inn and put Zelda in her bed- eager to untangle her limbs from him. He stared down, flabbergasted as she snored. If it weren’t for a million other things, it would have been funny. It made him scowl. How dare she sleep so peacefully?

The Goron innkeep probably sent him quite the look when he sat on the edge of his own bed, ramrod straight and taking deep breaths. 

Link was never one to panic. He was shaken by the incident, but he was certain he could manage to violently cram all of his confusion or emotions down into a deep, dark place and slam the door shut if he tried hard enough. He'd become rather efficient at it during his time following Rhoam around, after all- even more so after traveling around with a girl he'd been infatuated with for well over a year, and who also happened to be said king's daughter, and who happened to be the one girl that, if he was caught laying even one unnecessary finger on, Rhoam would fling him into a pen of rabid cuckoos for.

He took six more deep breaths. Maybe ten.

It was always a temporary fix, he knew. But it was his only option- hoping that the plug would stay in place until this Goddess-forsaken pilgrimage was over.

When Link finally glanced up from his stupor, eight hours had passed. Light flooded into the inn. The sun had risen, and Zelda was still sleeping soundly, drooling on her pillow.

Sighing, he did the only thing he could: stand and make preparations for yet another tumultuous day in Death Mountain. 

  


* * *

  


The sun was still hiding behind the mountain range when Link dumped a pile of rupees on a shopkeep's counter, snatched up a stack of pots, and proceeded to punt them out the door. That Goron didn't comment on it. He elected to slowly scrape the money off and into a bag of his own: unperturbed by the feral Hylian stomping out of his store.

It was six in the morning, and he was already terrorizing Goron City. That was fine. They’d seen him and all their white-haired guests do stranger things at less reasonable hours of the day.

Zelda must have been roused by the sound of shattering clay pots, because she ambled out of the inn soon after. All yawning and messy braids. It surprised him to see her walking; she still favored her right leg, but the only source of her stumbling appeared to be the grogginess left behind by that accursed medicine. It was one of the more peculiar similarities they shared: faster to heal than most.

“Good morning,” she drawled as she walked up to him.

A nod was the best he could offer. Zelda looked to the shards littering the road. Squinting. Following the trail that led up to where he stood. Link's foot was still on one of them, slowly cracking it in two- and somehow, it amused her.

“Were you that bored waiting for me to get up?" she goaded before taking in her surroundings. "I’m sorry, Purah must have forced you to carry me back, didn’t she? If I knew they were going to be _that_ powerful I wouldn't have taken them..." A smile was thrown his way. "A lesson for next time. Don't let Purah prescribe your medicine."

Link nodded again. Stony, but no stonier than usual. Her words confirmed that she didn’t remember any of it. Was it better that way? He didn’t know.

Seeing he had nothing to add to that, Zelda raised her hands and smacked her face. “Alright! I’ll get ready. I’m sure Daruk is already waiting for us in Rudania.”

The moment she turned, he let out the breath he'd been holding.

He tried his hardest to concentrate only on the sound of their footsteps as they walked across Eldin Bridge’s metal surface. Her heels clacked against the iron sheets. Her bag rustled with each step. She was talking about something- probably about continuing tests for his speed and strength.

It turned out that wasn’t what she was talking about at all.

“Link?” she stood at the end of that bridge, arms limp at her sides. “How about that? Leaving tomorrow? I... don’t believe I’m making progress with my prayers in Rudania.”

Leaving on what another several week long trip alone with Zelda? That sounded like it would be a waking nightmare. It sounded awful. It sounded horrific-

Link shrugged.

Zelda nodded. “Right, I will be sure to confirm it with Purah then.”

And just like that, he was soon watching Zelda disappear into Vah Rudania- off to pray until noon came around. He breathed a sigh of relief. Purah willing, he would have the day to himself. In fact, he probably had precious minutes before the Sheikah woman roused from her night of lasers and explosions.

So, Link glanced around, ducked behind a rock, and sprinted off before anyone could stop him.

He sat in a hot spring twenty minutes later: stewing like a vegetable next to another small Goron. Neither gargled a greeting to the other as they glared straight ahead- half submerged with a wretched scowl on both their faces. Link appreciated it, there were too many loud mouthed people on Death Mountain as it was.

Despite all his best attempts at praying to Hylia for mercy more than a priest, their tranquil spring was soon disturbed by a shadow that swept over them. Larger than a Moblin. It didn't startle either of them; he and his small companion slowly craned their necks up to see whatever it was- wondering who had the audacity to disturb them.

Past all that steam, there was a familiar pair of blue eyes staring down at him. Their brow cinched with worry, as always, and chains rattled when Daruk offered a small, hesitant wave. Even he seemed intimidated by the tiny pair of sods scowling up at him. “Hey, there... little guy.”

Link slipped his hand above the water and returned the gesture before plopping it back into the spring. The Goron scratched his head.

“Are you doing ok? The little princess asked me to come check on you.”

He choked on the water. The awful taste of salt and minerals down his throat. While Link was coughing, he managed to croak, _“What?”_

Daruk bent over even more, gesturing wide. “She said you were actin’ a little strange. It looks like she was right, huh?”

He recoiled when Link suddenly growled and ducked beneath the water’s surface. Bubbles of curses rose to the surface. It was less than two hours into his charade and he’d already slipped up? It was pitiful.

How was he going to survive a trip to Zora’s Domain?

Link was set on staying under that water until Daruk went away, yet a mere five seconds passed before a hand followed him into the water and wrapped around his ankle, yanking him out of the spring like a trout. Water splashed, and his small Goron companion gurgled loudly in protest.

He dangled upside down, dripping like a soggy rag. Instead of worming his way out of Daruk’s grip, Link crossed his arms, looking testy.

“This hot spring isn't gonna cut it,” Daruk shook his head more than once. “Come on, I’ve got something _way_ better.”

Rather than carry him half-naked across Death Mountain, the Goron graciously allowed him to throw back on his discarded clothing. Link’s weapon scraped across the stone when he snatched it up, trudging after his fellow Champion.

Daruk led him out of the gates, and when passing travelers were out of earshot, he yelled back at him. “So, what’s got your britches in a bunch?”

Link sighed and tossed out a vague explanation: “Her Royal Highness said something mean to me.”

His laughter was a roar. “Come on, you don’t have to worry about all that fancy talk in front of me. I already heard you two talking normal the other day.”

Was Link supposed to be surprised? He didn’t have the energy for it.

“Aren’t you going to tell me I need to talk it out?” he grumbled.

“Listen here,” Daruk cracked his neck, his tone confident, “If there’s something we Gorons know better than anyone else, it’s that sometimes that just doesn’t cut it.”

He turned to Link, their steps slowing as Daruk sized him up. His hand was briefly poised on his chin, contemplative, before he nodded sharply. “Looks to me you’ve got some _bad_ energy to work out before you can make any headway.”

The farther they descended, the more clearly he heard the sound of pickaxes striking rock, metal ringing, and earth shifting. They were near the mining camps, but Daruk marched on down a hidden path. His walk became brisk- excited, and Link found himself jogging to keep up with him.

Archways of stone passed over their heads. An old sign hung at the end: rickety and rusted. When he looked down again, Daruk stood proudly before a massive hot spring. The steam that billowed out from it was dense. The water a vivid soothing green. Waterfalls flowed from fissures in the stone walls surrounding it.

“Welcome to the original Death Mountain hot springs!” he jabbed a thumb towards himself. “Owned by none other than the Mighty Daruk!”

The first thought in Link's head was that it was as impressive as he made it sound. As he approached, taking in the space around them, Daruk elaborated, “Before I picked up this whole Champion shindig, I was from a long line of proud entrepreneurs. We owned the best springs ‘round this mountain for decades.”

He took a deep breath, seemingly content. “I’ve been working on fixing this place up the last couple of months. I’ll have it up and running in no time.”

He walked over to his boulder breaker. It’d been leaning against one of the archways, and when Daruk picked it up, he threw it at Link. It sent him stumbling when he caught it; the weight was more than he expected.

Daruk had lovingly wrapped its handle in blue to match their uniforms; and the detailed inscriptions made Link marvel at its quality. As destructive as he was, the Goron handled his prized possessions with exceptional care. He found himself smiling at it and tracing the silk with his fingers. Feeling his energy return, he flipped the weapon upside down and planted it in the earth: dirt and dust swirling into the air.

Daruk bore his own toothy grin, pleased with his enthusiasm. _“Alright!”_ he yelled, smashing a fist into his palm. “How about we make a deal? You help me clear out some of this pesky rubble, and I’ll let you take a dip in my springs. I’m sure by the end of the day you’ll be good as new.”

Link had nothing to lose.

A hand was stuck out, and even though his own was the size of that Goron’s finger, they shook on it.

Seconds later, they tore through the cliff sides. He could barely hear Daruk’s laughter through the chaos of it: the earth rumbling beneath their feet. The two of them together were practically a force of nature: the sound of beating drums echoing over the mountains.

It'd been more cathartic than he could have expected.

His friend had been right. He’d been thinking too hard about things for days, weeks, and months. And, quite frankly, he was sick of it. Bad energy- he'd said. Several years worth, he'd bet. Purging it would take more than kicking a pot, running down a hill, fighting monsters, or talking over a hot spring. He would have to mine for it. Dig it out.

It was buried well, after all; it was rooted deep beneath his skin.

The sun hung low on the Western sky by the time they spent all of their energy. He stood bent over with hands on his knees and wheezing when Daruk meandered over to him, stepping over the boulder breaker covered in dirt.

“How’s- how’s it feel, little guy?” he sounded just as pathetic, shoulders hunched. 

Link surprised himself- he hadn't a clue he was able to keep up with someone like Daruk. How could he? It wasn't like anyone had ever handed him a stone bat and told him to smack a hole through a cliffside before. Only in Death Mountain, he thought with a breathless laugh. Shame Zelda wasn't there to take notes.

He gave a thumbs up, arm trembling, and tipped backwards into the water.

It was when they both sat in Daruk’s precious hot springs, looking up at the orange-streaked skies, that he did ask him to talk.

“So what was it she said that was so mean?”

Stars were coming to life. A swath of purple and blue covered the expanse above, and if he stared long enough, he could see those colors swirl together. It made him sleepy.

“Promise you won’t tell?” he murmured, closing his eyes.

There was a sound- Daruk pounding a fist against his chest in a promise. “You got it, brother.” 

The words were hard to force out. It made Link’s stomach churn. “She was barely awake- but she said she loves me.”

Silence. Then a cough. “Can’t tell you how to handle that.”

Hardly the area of a Goron's expertise, really.

“I figured,” he sighed.

“Do you... uh-”

“Feel the same?” Link opened his eyes, frowning and trying to find clarity somewhere in all the mess. It was a simple enough question, but the answer lay at the bottom of a well he'd never dared to look down into. “...Maybe- probably," he managed. "But she doesn’t even remember saying it... She could’ve been talking nonsense.”

It was nonsense no matter how he looked at it, wasn’t it?

“Hmm,” his chaperone for the day contemplated something. Link sat up to get a good look at him, water dripping from his hair. Despite everything, Daruk didn’t appear all that concerned. One eyebrow raised, a mouth pulled to the side, and a hand stroking at his beard.

“...In my experience, nothin’ good comes from keeping secrets. That’s why we Gorons are always honest. Whatever bad thing you think’ll happen by telling the truth, I promise you something way worse will happen if you keep it bottled up for too long.”

As foreboding as that advice was, Daruk had a smile when he clambered out of those springs. It pained him to look at, yet it was always encouraging- something to admire, he thought. Sturdy as a mountain. Brazen. Goddess, where did he get his confidence from? Link hoped he could steal away just a little of that Goron’s presence of mind before they left.

“Just remember, little guy, we’re brothers for life. If you ever need to break a boulder or two, head on over to Death Mountain. I guarantee you, no matter how much time passes, we’ll be there to help out for sure.”

Link laughed to disguise the way his breathing hitched when Daruk helped him out of that water.

  
  



	13. The Great Convergence: Part One

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. The first half of this chapter is serious, and the second half? Ridiculous.  
> 2\. I'm very excited for Zora's Domain, especially the next 1 or 2 chapters of it. A lot of important stuff is going to be set into motion with this!  
> 3\. Sidon and Mipha were way more fun to write than I was expecting

“The Zora are coming.”

That was the first thing Purah said to him when he returned to Goron City that night.

She remained where she was without greeting, leaning against the wall of the inn. The woman must have stayed, he thought: keeping watch over Zelda and waiting patiently for him to return from wherever he’d gone off to.

It was hard to tell if she was pulling his leg by her tone alone; Purah’s face was blanketed in shadow. Most of the lights in the city had been extinguished, leaving little besides the warm glow of magma passing beneath their feet. But despite this, she was writing something on her clipboard with movements quick and looping. He stood mute as he processed what that woman had told him.

Zora in Goron City? That was as rare as seeing a Great Fairy.

Purah seemed to catch herself with a light scoff. “Oh, not here. They’ll be waiting at the stables down South.”

“What for?”

When she looked up at him, one of her spectacles caught torchlight. “His Majesty’s decree. He wants them to be her escort- it was great timing. Her Highness wanted to leave tomorrow, anyway, didn’t she?” With that, she returned to her writing. It’d become louder, quicker. Grating. He winced inwardly at the noise. After a moment, Purah tore away the sheet of paper and handed it to Link. “You’ll see Impa in Zora’s Domain. Give that to her.” He stared dumbly at her chicken scratch, prompting the woman to elaborate- if only vaguely. “She owes me a favor. I’m invoking it.”

First, Link frowned at the paper, and then at Purah. She was acting strange. All the severity in her gaze was out of character.

“...You seem… weird.”

“I don’t need to hear that from _you,”_ was her snippy reply. It was coupled with a dismissive wave of her clipboard. “It’s been a long day. I’d ask where you were, but I’m not sure I wanna know.”

His eyes flicked to the inn with an offhand inquiry, “Is Her Highness already asleep?”

Purah’s reply was as detailed as her explanation for that letter. “She had a long day, too. Anyway-” she walked off, fiddling with her mess of a bun. “Robbie will meet you here in the morning to follow you halfway. If he’s late, just leave. He’ll catch up eventually- or something.”

“Why?” he called after her.

The woman turned, walking backwards into the shadows of Death Mountain as she purred: “We hear there’s something _interesting_ on the Plateau.” 

Her final words came as he lost sight of her around the inn’s path. “Have a nice trip, Linky. And just to remind you, be extra careful around Impa, yeah? She doesn’t let things slide like I do.”

Link sighed when her footsteps faded, releasing tension. He finally saw the family resemblance in those two; if they willed it, their presence could surely cause even King Rhoam to shrink into his fur coat.

He was curious to know whatever the catalyst for her strange behavior was, yet what was there to do other than accept he’d likely never have an answer?

The sight of another traveler’s lantern reminded him that it was the same with Zelda.

Should he confront her about what she’d said? He still wasn’t sure, but he knew for certain he wouldn’t have time to with Zora, Sheikah, and worst of all- Impa prowling around.

Folding up Purah’s mysterious note, Link wandered off to collapse in his own bed. 

  


* * *

  


When Link awoke the next morning, it was, unfortunately, to Robbie’s goggles looming over him.

Flight or fight kicked in before he could stop himself, and his cousin was soon sprawled across the floor with a pillow smashed against his face. Feathers floated.

Link must have been having a nightmare, because he realized Zelda stood at his bedside- reaching out to calm him down. It was embarrassing- the way he yelped and fell onto the floor next to Robbie.

“Oh my,” the princess muttered. She rounded the bed to lean over the two of them. “I apologize. I told him we should have woken you up with the smell of food instead.”

That was also embarrassing.

“We,” Robbie said as he peeled feathers off of his face, “do not have time to cook him a meal, Your Royal Highness. We are late as it is.”

Link’s head rolled across the floor to face the man. “What time is it?”

 _“Noon._ I was considering feeling for a pulse when you assaulted me.”

He opened his mouth, but Zelda interrupted him before he could- most likely- start an argument. “Get up, the both of you. Daruk is waiting to say his goodbyes.”

Several minutes later, his spine nearly snapped in two as Daruk hugged him and unceremoniously dumped him in the dirt.

When Link managed to crawl to his feet, they waved to the Goron shouting after them:

“Good luck! Stay safe tiny princess! Don’t skip your meals!” 

Little did he know they’d already skipped breakfast. Or was it lunch?

“Well, that was quite the hug. You two must be good friends... Although, it would’ve been more touching if you hadn’t fainted like a milkmaid.” Robbie probably would have said more if Link hadn’t elbowed him in the ribs.

There was a loud cough, and Zelda glanced back to send a _‘behave yourselves’_ glare. It worked until she turned away and Robbie flicked the side of Link’s head. He growled at the man. Their princess was quicker to respond that time: her head snapping towards them before anyone could continue their petty squabbling.

“Do I need to separate the two of you?” she warned.

They both answered.

“No, Your Highness.”

“Certainly not, Your Highness.”

Doubt was plastered all over her face, but she turned away nonetheless.

(As much as Robbie complained about being late, making their way to the stables took less than a day and a half. Mercifully, Zelda kept the man occupied with conversations regarding Guardians or the Beasts; it prevented Robbie from making too many snide comments about Link’s failure to wear a diaper when he was four months old.)

When they finally trudged out of Death Mountain’s borders, the wind rushing out of the canyons was harsh; and the layer of impossibly tall, towering clouds littering the expanse above were all too reminiscent of those which hovered over Zora’s Domain. Beautiful as they were, Link knew very well they were the earliest signs of an approaching storm.

Waves of travelers that passed by them were whispering about the Zora. They sounded wonderstruck- disbelieving. He had a hard time grasping what it was that was so astonishing about a gaggle of Zora until a pair of gossiping twins strode past with mention of a particular name.

Mipha.

It was just in time for the girl to walk out from the shade of a tree, fingers grazing across the handle of her spear as she idly watched birds flock overhead. She’d heard them approach, of course, and turned to greet them with the chime of swaying jewels.

Her head bowed to Zelda- albeit not nearly as deeply as the eight Zora attendants lowering to one knee.

“It’s wonderful to see you all,” she smiled warmly at their trio when she raised her head. “It’s been far too long.”

Zelda showed the same respect, albeit her gaze lingered in the dirt a moment longer than necessary. “I agree... Thank you very much for coming all this way, Mipha.”

Link stared at the two of them, a hint of shock on his face. Peering over Zelda's shoulder, Mipha's lips pursed. “You didn’t tell him?”

“I figured it should be a surprise!” Zelda’s attention divided itself between both of them. “I’ve heard several times that you two are close friends.” He merely nodded, and Mipha smiled again. That seemed to please her as she gestured to Robbie. “I assume you two have already met?”

“Yes, several years ago,” she said. “...Robbie, was it?”

“It is a pleasure to see you again, Your Highness,” was his confirmation.

With the pleasantries out of the way, Mipha approached Zelda with a question. “I assume our plans for travel are the same?”

“Yes, I still intend to go by myself, if that’s alright.”

By herself?

Link started to realize Zelda and Purah failed to tell him anything.

He kept his face blank that time, but Mipha once again noticed the glance he sent to the back of Zelda’s head.

“You… didn’t tell him that, either?” A tinge of suspicion.

Zelda tilted her chin back as if she suddenly remembered she hadn’t, but Link knew her well enough to recognize that warbling undercurrent of deceit in her tone. “No, I apologize- it must have slipped my mind.”

If he didn’t believe her, neither did Mipha.

Regardless, she didn't bother to pry. “Well, why don’t you rest up while we gather our own things? Robbie, could I trouble you with a quick chat? I have questions regarding that… I- I think it was a _letter_ that Purah sent me?" The man nodded, both amused and exasperated before Mipha called to her soldiers, “Please, send notice to Aspen of our departure.”

It became apparent they had no intention of talking in the open. They climbed a hill to gossip beneath a rustling oak tree, their voices carried away by the wind. While their secrecy was intriguing, there was one person who he wanted to interrogate more at that moment.

His eyes on Zelda, expectant. Green stayed glued to the dirt a little longer this time, but the girl must have seen it coming, because she dipped her head in agreement and stepped away: the two of them drifting around the stables and into heavy shade. Shifting feet, her arms crossed tight and rigid despite the fact that he held no anger. Really, he was more confused than anything else. More so than ever by that defensive gesture of hers.

“What’s this about going alone, Zelda?” he whispered.

“I won’t be _alone,”_ she corrected. “I’ll be in the company of Mipha’s tutors. My father requested that I pay respect to their temples before visiting Ruta.”

“I don’t like this.”

The girl’s explanation was reasonable at face value. “Really? You haven’t seen each other for half a year, have you? I thought you would enjoy visiting all your friends in Zora’s Domain. Besides, we both know you’d be incredibly bored sitting outside a temple every day for a month.”

_A month?!_

He took a breath, maintaining his composure.

“Does your father know about this?”

Zelda’s personal guard, leaving her side for a month? It didn’t sound like something that man would approve of.

“It’s not necessary,” she insisted with confidence. “Zora’s Domain is one of the safest places in Hyrule, and I shall be accompanied by some of the most exceptional individuals within the kingdom- including Impa. Mipha has also kindly agreed to maintain discretion on the matter.”

“And Impa?”

“She’s already approved of giving you time off.”

_Impa? _Giving him time off? Was he dreaming?__

Link continued to protest, “Won’t we spend plenty of time there when you go to Ruta?”

Becoming impatient with all his questions, she dealt yet another card in her pocket, “Mipha said she would let you know the details, but even King Dorephan has asked for your help as a Champion.”

“Zelda-”

Something snapped in her. A hand chopped through the air, cutting him off with what sounded far too much like an order:

“Do _not_ hesitate to do something more productive than stamp your sword in the dirt while I _pray.”_

A flash of teeth. Her gaze intense- insistent. A facade it'd been, he thought. That reasonable exterior of hers. He stood there mute and dumb, and without further objections, she took his silence as agreement and walked off. Something lighthearted about visiting her horse was said. It didn't reach him.

Link watched her go, unable to shake the feeling he’d been trapped and baited into something as he tried to make sense of it all. She’d been plotting this trip for longer than just that seemingly spontaneous question at Eldin Bridge. Had to. This wasn’t something that could be organized within several days, was it? It must have needed weeks of missives and letters.

Zelda wanted him out of the way, but why?

Another question he feared he wouldn't have the answer to.

Mipha and Robbie were still conversing on their hill when he returned to the front. 

He glanced at Mipha's attendants who were already prepared and waiting with less than three bags between them. Although he’d seen it plenty of times, it still surprised him that the Zora traveled so light. Briefly, Link wondered if he’d picked up a couple more of his odd habits from them. He’d never been one to prepare for long trips, after all. If he ran out of food he’d merely dive into a river or snatch up berries from a nearby forest like some sort of bear.

Many of the attendants were familiar enough that they didn’t hesitate to strike up conversation. When one of them- Riley- inquired about their plans for their horses, Link glanced toward the corrals.

Zelda stood inside it: rubbing her cheek against her horse’s neck with a look of delight on her face. There were several pieces of an apple at their feet. She’d been spoiling the animal, no doubt, and he could see her sneaking a carrot to his own horse, as well.

Any frustration he had towards her momentarily receded. He found himself marveling at the girl as she doted on an animal several times her size.

Link couldn’t believe it.

He was jealous of a horse.

Shaking the thought out of his head, he clarified, “We’re heading to Akkala next. This is the closest stable, so we’re leaving them here until we pass by later.”

Their rest was cut far too short when Mipha’s spear tapped against stone in a silent command, drawing her attendants to her side. Link turned his face against a gust of wind, and, with the barest sigh, left to pull Zelda away from her brief respite.

A day later, they were ascending the same hill they’d encountered Terry and Balder on. Several Zora guards walked ahead of the princesses while the others flanked them alongside Link. Robbie’s location tended to be a mystery. He was certainly nearby, but whatever he was doing as he slithered into the tree line was beyond Link’s ability to guess. It became a little clearer when his Sheikah cousin reappeared out of the thicket: purple mist seeping through the bushes.

“I never got to ask you this,” Mipha said to Zelda, “but how was your trip to Mount Lanayru?”

An awkward laugh. “Unfortunately, the Keepers denied me passage. Impa made a plea on my behalf, but... they insisted that the laws of the Goddess were not capable of being bent by mortals’ hands.”

“Well, it’s less than a year now, isn’t it?” Mipha tried to amend. “I’m sure you’ll be making the climb before you know it.”

Keepers? Laws of the Goddess? Link knew the basics of Hylian religion, but it sounded as if there were plenty more nuances and mysterious facets that few were privy to. 

He mused over it; it was ironic that even Hylia’s Champion was so ignorant of Her laws.

It wasn’t long before Robbie split off from them permanently. The moment their trail curved East, the man said his goodbyes to the royals.

He did, however, take Link aside to have a final word with him.

“Once you return to the castle, I’ll be borrowing you,” he stated with finality. “I have many experiments I require your help with.”

The look on Link’s face was dubious.

“They involve weapons, of course.”

Predictably, his doubt was thrown to the wind and he shared a mischievous grin with his cousin. He didn’t miss the suspicious look Zelda sent them upon seeing that.

Robbie turned to the side to leave, but put a hand on his shoulder to assure him, “If you ever have questions, don't hesitate to send me a letter, yes? And if you're interested, Impa has plenty of knowledge, as well.”

It was becoming easier for Link to accept people’s kindness. His hand grazed over Robbie’s with a smile, trying to convey his gratitude, and with a nod, the Sheikah marched onward to the setting sun. 

  


* * *

  


A century ago, Inogo Bridge was home to several buildings. They were oddly shaped: built against the hills overlooking the path leading into Zora’s Domain. One of them in particular was where they planned to stay for the night.

And in the morning, Zelda would finally leave their company.

Mipha usually tolerated it when visiting Central Hyrule, but she felt as cramped indoors as the rest of her Zora kin. As such, neither Hylians were all that surprised when she and her guards unanimously elected to stay by the river.

Link would take the first shift guarding Zelda’s door before one of Mipha’s entourage relieved him. It led him to leaning against the wall, arms crossed as he watched a pair of clock hands tick ever closer to midnight.

They hadn’t said a word to each other since those stables. It bothered him. Although he would be quick to tell anyone it wasn’t the silence that had him feeling so uncomfortable. In reality, it was knowing next to nothing about the other half of Zelda’s life- knowing little of her plans for the month to come.

The chantry, her confinement within an abbey, the rituals she would perform within the belly of a Divine Beast, or whatever she would do when submerging herself in clear waters. He barely knew a thing.

He supposed he would know more soon enough when they visited the Spring of Power next.

Link sighed just as Zelda’s door creaked open. A little startled, he turned his head to see the girl was looking right at him. She seemed miserable.

Zelda murmured an invitation: “Would you come in?”

He was given no opportunity to answer. She quickly retreated back into the room, pale strands of hair floating after her.

He glanced at the clock in deliberation. It was still two hours before he would be relieved; the gap was enough that Link would deem it safe to bend etiquette and do as she requested.

Zelda sat on the bed when he shut the door after him. Upon seeing that- he moved no further into the room. All her usual clothes were discarded, after all: shoes and high collars cast aside. Legs bare. A thin night shirt _blatantly_ unbuttoned much lower than she realized-

Link tore his eyes back to her face, doing the best he could to quit all his ogling. He started to second guess taking any risk by being here. He hoped none of the other guards would appear early, mainly because he didn’t want to have to explain what he was doing in a closed room five feet from a princess who was barely dressed. Why? Where was her head?

She seemed frazzled when she spoke, fiddling nervously with her undone hair. “I won’t keep you. I wanted to apologize…" She went on to mumble to the floor, "I was too harsh with you at the stables.”

“You’re not obligated to explain everything to me,” he assured her as he tilted his head against the doorframe- staring pointedly at the left wall. “...You can tell me if you don't want to talk about it. I won't mind.”

There was a hum of worry that redirected his gaze back to Zelda.

Her frown grew deeper. Somewhere on the upper level, floorboards creaked. “Yes... you’re right. I’m so sorry. I was scared of hurting you if I said that, but I wound up making a mess of it anyway, didn’t I?”

So that was it? The girl had tried to give him an opportunity that he would gladly accept without question?- to avoid any uncomfortable explanations?

The way she bit her lip told him their talk wasn’t over just yet.

“In case the idea occurred to you, I wanted to let you know you haven’t done anything wrong. I genuinely believe you deserve to spend more time with your friends- Purah kept you far too busy to visit Daruk, and our trip with your fellow knights barely lasted two days.”

All her rambling continued with a question.

“Are you angry with me? I- It was never my intention to manipulate you. I truly thought you would be happy to leave with Mipha-”

Link stopped her quietly, “I’m not angry, Zelda.”

“...Oh.” The patience in his tone must have caught her off guard.

“But, I want you to tell me if this about you wanting space or something else.”

The look on her face confirmed the latter: that she had another, more severe reason buried deep beneath all her other excuses.

“...It’s something else.” Guilt was plain as day in her eyes, yet it receded when she took a breath and looked up at him determinedly. “I need to do this alone. However, I will say this again, Link, you have done nothing wrong- if I had a choice even _Impa_ wouldn’t be there, but I cannot overrule my father when it comes to her.”

“Why?” his tone was quiet again- uneasy now.

He looked again to her appearance. The clear lack of forethought. Something wasn't right, and every shadow that continued to pass over her face only gave weight to that suspicion.

_Where was her head?_

Zelda lowered her face. “...I’m too ashamed to tell you right now. Would you accept a promise instead? That when we meet again, I will tell you everything? I hope that will help make amends for how rude I was to you.”

He wasn’t concerned about that. An apology was enough. Though it seemed important to her, so he would agree to it depending on the answer to his next question:

“It’s not dangerous?”

“No,” a playful smile was there. “Do you honestly think I could get away with anything while Impa is with me?”

Link shared her amusement. “That’s good enough, then.”

Pausing, he couldn’t help but make at least one half-teasing comment before the end of their conversation, “Please send letters, at least. I’ll miss your rambling too much otherwise.” The other half was embarrassingly serious.

He could have sworn she squeaked at that. Trying to hide her reddening face, Zelda looked at him, to floor, and then back to him before she worked up the courage to bashfully mutter:

“...You too. Send letters.”

With a lazy grin, he saluted her and pushed the door open. “Goodnight, princess.”

Sure enough, her fond whisper followed him into the hallway, “Goodnight, Link.”

When the door clicked shut behind him, he put a hand over his eyes and let out a quiet, frustrated breath. He could never get used to the feeling of dread and butterflies in his stomach at the same time. Did he even need to ask her if what she said on Death Mountain had any truth to it? Link had lost count of how many men openly flirted with her during their travels, and did she ever bat an eye? No. Not that he could remember. It forced him to reprimand himself. He’d become too used to letting his mouth spout whatever came to mind around Zelda, and he’d become too addicted to getting a rise out of her.

If it all was true, he needed to stop letting his control slip.

He needed to stop entertaining stupid thoughts- just like the ones that kept drawing his mind back into that room. 

  


* * *

  


Mipha’s guards weren’t meant for her.

Zelda was the one who would adopt all eight of them as she walked through a tunnel: not once turning to glance at her friends as she and those Zora marched into the glare of the rising sun.

Whatever she was preparing herself for had taken full root in her mind.

“Well...” Mipha was the first to speak, forlorn, “there she goes.”

“Are you worried?” Link prodded.

The two of them began their own hike as she answered, “Of course. She was awfully tense. I hope it won’t be like Lanayru in that her pleas are refused again.”

He was blinking, and Mipha lowered her chin in refusal- predicting what he would ask.

“I won’t be telling you what she’s looking for. Call it an unspoken rule between princesses if you may. We are confidants to each other first and foremost.”

“Zelda did mention she was ashamed,” Link thought over it with crossed arms. “She can talk to you. That’s good enough.”

Mipha smiled as they came to a small river, tilting her spear in a content manner. “Yes, I’m happy to help where I can. Though... I fear my presence often does more harm than good.”

Link watched her hop across a few stones as he crossed the short bridge above. “Why?”

“I’m sure you know her well enough by now to guess. All she does is compare herself to others. Her mother, as well- even after all these years. It’s a terrible habit, and I curse that king for fostering such insecurity in her.”

“Are they anything alike?” He asked when they met up again. Mipha had been a few years older; the Zora princess probably remembered Zelda’s mother better than she did.

She twisted to face him with a wave of her finger. _“Not one bit._ Zelda may be an exact copy of the woman’s features, but she’s her father’s daughter, through and through.” A bit of doubt passed over her before Mipha corrected herself, “...Now that I think about it, her mother did have a similar way of being enthralled by her passions- I think her vice was flowers? Zelda’s, machines and biology.”

Their idle chatter continued for some time: diverging towards her baby brother, Muzu’s latest petty arguments, and eventually, to her father.

“That reminds me! Do you remember that Lynel you exterminated for us? A new one moved in. This one is significantly stronger, so I was forbidden from trying my hand at it without proper assistance.”

“Is that what your father wanted me for?”

“Yes. Zelda mentioned it, did she?”

He nodded. “We’ll take care of it.”

“Thank you,” Mipha said. She soon remembered another question, “By the way... I hate to be nosy, but I’m curious how you two are getting along?”

Link shrugged. “She made me agree to be friends.”

He was amazed at the simplicity of his own words. He said it so easily as if there wasn’t an ever growing mountain of complications looming over his sanity.

She giggled at that, but wound up looking perplexed. “Really? _She_ forced _you?”_

“In a way. After a couple months she pointed out we were stuck with each other. Might as well get along.”

“I’m impressed! At the castle, you two looked as though you utterly despised each other... Or were tempted to throw something at the very least.”

(Mipha was right on the money with that one. Several weeks before the ceremony, even Rhoam had taken them aside to insist they stop causing the temperature of a room to plummet every time one or the other walked through the door. He was foolish enough to assume Link wasn’t as much of the problem as Zelda was, however, and her father’s leniency towards him only served to make the princess irate.)

"It's water under the bridge." 

“That’s good. The air between you two seemed much more civil during our trip, but... you know, I'm worried that...” her words trailed off. She didn’t elaborate.

After last night, Link didn’t have the mental energy to pry. If it was important she would probably tell him later.

He flinched away from a spray of water as Zora dove past. Several of them waved to Mipha, who returned the gesture. The road to the city was growing lively; groups of Hylian travelers splashed around in shallow waters. It was pleasant. Link soaked in the atmosphere.

Those who recognized Mipha didn’t skid to a halt to yell ‘your highness’ or bow into the dirt as she passed. The princess had long since established that she wouldn’t tolerate all that ridiculous behavior outside of formal occasions, and somehow, her people felt comfortable enough to go along with it.

Mipha commanded respect and admiration all at once. Her presence didn’t invoke any anxiety like the Hylian royalty did.

Suddenly, the girl froze.

 _“Sidon!”_ Mipha shouted into the air, horrified. “What on earth are you doing?!”

Link craned his neck towards the sky. Sure enough, there was a silhouette hanging off a precipice above them. The small Zora’s legs were kicking frantically in the open air, and bits of rock tumbled. Mipha dropped her weapon as she positioned herself beneath him. With a huff, she commanded:

“Let go! I will catch you, you little rascal!”

Sidon must have had unwavering faith in his sibling or a terribly weak grip, because he let go immediately: falling into her arms as promised.

“Wanted to dive like you,” he babbled when she held him out, scrunching her face angrily at him. The child pointed to the river behind them. “Got scared.”

It was becoming apparent he had yet to grasp personal pronouns.

His sister glanced at the water and scolded him. “You were brave to try, but that jump is still too far for you to make. You must wait until your legs are longer, you hear?”

There was a grumble of protest, but it was incoherent.

Link approached as Mipha was glancing around. “Where on earth is Muzu? Your babysitters?”

_“‘Unno.”_

A gasp of realization.

“You escaped again! I bet they’re still halfway up the river looking for you!” She complained to Link after that, saying, “He’s just like _you._ Slippery. I regret teaching him to swim up waterfalls so early- it’s given him an easier time running off.”

He snatched up the small Zora, allowing Mipha to pick up her spear. “What are you, four?” he interrogated the dangling child.

“Very soon,” the princess clarified as she stood straight again.

He examined him for a moment longer. “Steak.”

“Pardon?”

“He’s the size of a prime steak now,” Link explained. 

Mipha was dumbfounded by the comparison. “While I am well aware that you will eat anything, I would greatly appreciate it if you cast aside any plans you have for eating my baby brother.”

“I’ll consider it.”

_“My thanks.”_

Upon hearing their conversation, Sidon was quick to begin requesting said food. Mipha promised to reward him with a meal if he didn’t try to run off, and Link gave the little shark in his hands a side eye when he grinned: displaying a set of frighteningly sharp teeth.

He held Sidon farther away, fearful.

Regardless, he wound up carrying him on his shoulders. The toddler let out a gasp when they began walking, marveling at his newly acquired height.

“Wanna be as big as you,” he announced, pulling at Link’s hair.

He winced a reply, “Too bad, you’ll be short forever.”

That joke was a mistake, because Sidon started wailing.

A second later, Mipha walked hand in hand with Sidon, trying to comfort him through his sniffling. “I should have warned you,” she whispered loudly, “he’s quite sensitive.”

The sensitive child in question began to argue with her on the validity of that comment. Link chose to reflect on the realization he might be terrible with children.

Would Zelda be good with children?

Probably not. Who knows what she would feed them?

Mipha’s prediction came to fruition at Luto’s Crossing. Muzu’s nasally voice was echoing from the hills opposite of them alongside a few more feminine shouts, all promising the same thing:

“Prince Sidon! You dropped your feather!”

In response, the tiny Zora wriggled out of Mipha’s grasp and waddled as quickly as he could across that bridge. His head was far too big. It caused him to teeter and fall several times; Link snickered at it when his sister ran after him- trying to ensure the overeager toddler didn’t injure himself.

As strict as she was, that princess couldn’t help but fret, could she?

Soon enough, a Zora he knew as Ellie was crowning Sidon with his precious, drooping feather. He must have adored that crown like a blanket or a stuffed toy by the way he possessively held it to his head.

“Welcome back, Link!” Sidon’s four nannies waved. He was well acquainted with them: they’d taken care of Mipha as she grew up, and often looked after him while his father was busy arguing with Muzu or being sent off to take care of yet another persistent Lynel.

“I see the _Hylian_ has returned,” Muzu hissed when he met them at the bridge’s end, hands glued behind his back as always. Sometimes, Link would make a point of circling around him to see whatever knife he was probably hiding.

It always earned a glare or two, and being younger back then, Muzu didn’t hesitate to swat at him like he was a fly.

Even a century ago, that Zora wasn’t a fan of Link. He once said he saw too much of his father in him- which was probably justified.

All in all, the trip was only ten hours. It was still the afternoon when they arrived, causing all of them to squint against the glare of water reflecting sunlight. The city was saturated in blue under clear skies, and the sound of rushing water was a loud thrum even before they passed through the city gates.

None of them bothered to rest. Taking the lead, Muzu walked ahead as they climbed the stairs to the throne room. The nannies followed as well, specifically trailing after Sidon while he struggled to crawl up the stairs.

He complained every time someone tried to pick him up. That Zora was a prideful little thing.

King Dorephan crowed when they all came into view, sitting a little higher in his chair. “At long last! I have been waiting impatiently for you three to return.”

“We ought to put a bell on this one,” Mipha patted Sidon’s head. Her brother didn’t appear to like that idea.

Failing to hide his amusement, the king grumbled, “To think the day would come.” He then proposed a question to Link, “How have you been, boy? It’s been nearly three years, hasn’t it?”

“I’ve been better,” he answered honestly. His tone was flat, though. Sarcastic.

“Haven’t we all,” Dorephan chuckled in agreement.

Mipha glanced to Link, and then to her father. “Is our Lynel still up there?”

The king rolled his eyes. “Yes. It’s making quite the racket.”

Almost as if on cue, there was a blast of electricity that echoed from the mountaintop. Everyone besides Link and Mipha groaned at it.

“We should go kill it.” Link said to her, but the girl shook her head. 

“Let’s do it in the morning. The hike will take too long and I am starving.” 

In silence, the room watched him weigh his desire to go harass a Lynel or eat food. A hand grabbed onto his leg. Sidon gazed up at him, drooling, and all Link could do was relent. 

  


* * *

  


“I cannot fathom what their fascination is with this mountain.”

Link took a step back to look up at Sidon. “It’s tall. They’re tall. Like you. They have a flare for the dramatic.”

“You would compare me to _that_ thing?” He was terribly offended.

“Tell me I’m wrong,” he dared, hands on his hips. While Sidon tried to think of a way to refute that, Link offered an extra bit of insight. “You’ve got teeth like them.”

“Now, that’s just rude. My teeth are pristine.”

The two of them sat crouched behind a boulder as yet another of those monsters stomped around, occasionally growling at birds fluttering overhead.

“I’ve heard you have an easy time with them,” his Zora companion said after they finally stopped bickering about his teeth.

There was a shrug, and Link wiggled his fingers at him. “Yeah. Their shock arrows don’t affect me as badly as normal people.”

“Hm. Strange.” Sidon examined him, but soon tapped a fist into his palm. “Right! We shall exterminate this foul creature together. On the count of three-”

Link’s hand shot up, interrupting him. “I don’t think so. Last time you were involved I almost died.”

_“Pardon?”_

“You heard me, big guy.” He winced at the memory, partially covering his ears. “I’d never heard Mipha scream so loud. Trying to save you almost landed me in the shrine of resurrection early.”

“Hylia, truly?”

Several nods. 

“Please,” he got on his knees, taking one of Link’s hands. “Allow me to redeem myself, my friend!”

Sidon looked like his toddler self in that moment: eyes sparkling in earnest. It made Link’s backbone crumble. Sighing, all he could do was relent yet again.

It took one minute for that Zora to have their Lynel trapped in a chokehold. Instead of being shocked, Link stood there grinning devilishly at the scene. It was proper revenge, that was for sure. He’d been in the same position as that Lynel one hundred years ago: his feet dangling off the ground as Mipha chased Sidon in frantic circles around them.

Honestly, if he’d known how that trip was going to go, Link would have told King Dorephan to find another exterminator. 

When they arrived, the sight of that monster caused even him to think twice. 

“You weren’t kidding,” he whispered to Mipha as he squinted past that same rock. 

“Yes... Have you ever seen one that color before?”

“No, I’ve only heard about them from my father,” he narrowed his eyes further. “They’re never this close to people.”

“Shall I help?”

Link nodded. He got a bad feeling from it. It seemed more intelligent: a motionless sentinel gazing over the open peak- predictably grumbling whenever a bird soared past. Its golden sheen reminded him of Zelda’s hair.

His companion moved first. She climbed, a blur of red, and leapt from their cover to fling her spear at the monster. It dodged, drawing a bow as Link darted into the open. With the scrape of metal, his sword was drawn.

Almost immediately, that Lynel’s attention snapped to him- locking onto the reflective blade with keen interest. It quickly made him its priority, knowing full well he was the more serious threat. Mipha was relentless, however, proving to be just as pesky to deal with.

At first, their teamwork was flawless. Mipha’s spear was a flash of colored jewels as it spun around her- and his own weapon was a source of heat: delivering searing burns with every small cut. Things, of course, went downhill when the Lynel caved under pressure and galloped a ways off. It skidded to a halt, and it wasn't until the dust cleared that it became apparent it'd stopped just before running over a familiar feathered head. Sidon bumbled to his rear, and Mipha screamed like a banshee.

_“Sidon, no!”_

Link didn’t think it would ever happen again after that lava incident, but he started screaming right alongside her.

Even that creature looked stunned when it noticed Sidon crawl between its legs. It began reaching down to grab what looked like a quick snack just as its two opponents barreled towards them- Mipha continuing to screech in all her panic.

Link was faster: arriving just in time to sweep his blade across the Lynel’s hand. Its limbs were far too tough, making him curse when the cut was barely two inches deep. Though, it still turned out to thoroughly enrage that Lynel judging by the way it roared in his face loud enough to make his ears ring, and snatched him right up in place of Sidon. He remembered choking on his breath as the pressure closed in around his neck. It was his own monstrous strength that saved him in the end, being able to able to challenge its grip with one hand alone- and while it was the hardest he’d ever strained, the knowledge that the monster would crush his throat with ease if he let go was a wonderful motivator.

The Lynel raised its other arm high, a weapon in hand as it prepared to cut Mipha and her brother in half. The slight change in its attention weakened the creature’s chokehold, which offered Link the opportunity to make one risky move:

He let go, flipped his sword to grip it with both hands, and rammed it behind him into the creature’s chest with as much force as he could muster.

Rocks tore into his fingers when he was dropped onto the ground, and he had to roll out of the way when that Lynel reared up, clawing at the blade in its chest before collapsing. The impact shook the earth. Pebbles bouncing: a tremor that shot from his hands and right to his teeth. Silence fell with nothing but its howl carrying through the distant expanse.

Mipha sat on the ground not three feet away, holding a confused toddler in her arms as she desperately tried to catch her breath. Their view of each other was suddenly obscured with the clattering of a sword; mist had finally swept around them when the creature vanished, and by the time it receded, there was fury on the Zora princess’ face.

 _“I need,”_ she growled at the boy against her chest, _“To put a bell on you.”_

Sidon only looked up at her with an innocent question. “Where’d pony go?”

Besides _that_ incident, Link’s stay in Zora’s Domain was without incident. He spent his time splashing in water, being yelled at by Muzu for almost letting Sidon hold a weapon (more than once), or running small errands for the occasional Zora acquaintance.

Several weeks in, Mipha had taken him to visit Vah Ruta.

It’d been pleasant; the air was quiet and warm despite the approaching Winter. Strangely, the seasons’ change always had little effect on Zora’s Domain. Something Mipha once told him was that there were deep caverns beneath their lakes, and warmth would rise from them: ensuring that their waters would never freeze. They went deep into the earth- those tunnels rumored to harbor magma within their depths.

Coupled with Death Mountain’s radiating heat, Winter simply never came for the Zora.

The princess’ hand was hovering over his arm. Light drifted between her fingertips. It was something that also felt warm and soothing. Though, he could never get used to it. That strange light numbed the pain similar to an elixir, but with enough potency to make his entire arm feel weak.

She was tending to his wound that he’d received on Death Mountain. It’d never healed quite right, and even Zelda’s unusually powerful elixirs had little effect on something so deep. Mipha had quickly scolded him for not telling her earlier. She’d only noticed when the wound had reopened, after all: blood seeping through his clothing.

Her chatter was without much direction, but, of course, sitting on that Divine Beast ensured it would drift to what it was that brought them all there in the first place.

The girl was like Zelda. She talked too much about the Calamity- believed in it too sincerely. It made him think too much. For most of his life, the people around him always possessed a stronger faith than he ever did, and it made him feel like the odd one out. 

Maybe he wasn’t taking things as seriously as he should have. Maybe he should finally accept all the things that were proved merely by the existence of his sword and the way it seemed to murmur restless and urgent on particularly dark nights. Humming. Something close by, but nothing ever there.

His attention had drifted off until Mipha addressed him again. Her voice barely above a whisper. He could hear the resolve there all the same.

“If you- if anyone ever tries to do you harm… then I will heal you.” She glanced down- maybe eyeing the water below as she tried to find proper words. “No matter when, or how bad the wound… I hope you know… that I will always protect you.”

Funny to say to someone like him.

But it was kind of her, he thought. Mipha never had any obligation to, yet she’d always treated him as family. He was thankful for it; it kept him from being far too lonely growing up. Making friends outside stray animals never came naturally to him, and most of his interactions involved listening to men thirty years older than him demand to know how on Hylia's green Earth he was capable of lifting a claymore twice his size.

The girl’s hands clasped together as she continued, “Once this whole thing is over maybe things can go back to the way they used to be when we were young. You know… perhaps we could spend some time together.”

Link smiled. “I’d like that,” he agreed, and his expression was perfectly mirrored on her face.

A comfortable quiet settled. Her eyes moved to focus on her idly twiddling thumbs, and so, he turned his attention and his thoughts back to the landscape. Somewhere in those winding ridges. She had to be. Maybe if he squinted hard enough he could catch sight of a flash of gold. The idea was ridiculous enough he almost laughed. He needed more patience- and not much more, actually, since the month was nearly over.

Though, it was possible it'd only been a few days since they'd arrived. Worry had a way of making him lose track of time, after all. Link frowned, dejected and entertaining yet another ridiculous idea that involved making clocks tick a little faster.

"B-By the way... what I mean by that is I care-" like a switch flipped off, Mipha's words cut away as soon as she looked up again.

His face relaxed when his head swiveled toward her. He kept on staring, waiting, and she kept on sitting frozen and stony and somewhere he suspected was farther away than Zelda.

"Mipha?"

"Oh," she covered her mouth, giggling. A broken falsetto. "I'm... sorry, I think I just lost my train of thought. What do you say we head back?"

She hadn't waited for an answer, and left him sitting alone feeling like he'd swallowed jagged rocks.

The questions without answers were starting to pile up.

The sun was still on the horizon when they returned. They’d planned to have dinner, but were stopped at the main gates due to carts of luminous stones rapidly wheeling past. One of them almost ran Link over, their owner hardly bothering to shout an apology.

Architects were huddled, debating over maps and diagrams, and groups of Zora were hanging intricate, brightly colored decorations across the archways. He’d never seen so many in one place- neither the stones or the Zora workers.

Unable to piece together what was happening on his own, he looked to Mipha for answers. “What’s going on?”

“We’re beginning preparations for a ceremony coming in a few weeks,” she tapped her spear against the marble as she became excited. “You’ll be lucky! This is something that only happens once a millenia.”

Green caught his eye. Rocks that were submerged in shadow were already starting to glow while those still touched by sunlight remained bland and colorless. It was a slow process, but steady as an ocean tide.

Link was going to ask more questions until all the chatter fell and several Zora began to get on their knees.

For a moment, he thought they were all bowing to Mipha.

However, there were footsteps behind him. Loud. A pack of glass and gems rustling with every stride. He twisted sharply at the sound, recognizing it all too easily.

Zelda was there, marching briskly across the Domain’s massive bridge with hands fisted and Impa her shadow- her footsteps silent as ever.

Shadowed by the hood draped over her head, it wasn’t until she got closer that he was able to see her frown. Green eyes narrowed: a little angry, and a little determined at the same time. That wasn’t particularly interesting, though, compared the bruises and bandages and cuts marring the extent of her skin. Splotches of violet, yellow, and a swollen cheek. There wasn't a scratch on the woman next to her, however. Impa's flat stare made her look about ready to check her nails in boredom.

He was slow to absorb it. His heart in his stomach. A trick of the light, wasn't it? All that green and twilight blending into the wrong colors.

Mipha should have leapt forward to tend to Zelda when she came to a halt, but she merely stood rooted in place next to him. A swaying head, almost curious. Link wanted to chalk it up to shock, but her calm and casual words dashed that theory completely.

“I see you’ve finished, princess. How did it go?”

Zelda took a deep breath, put her hands on her hips, and reported:

“It didn’t work!”

With that, the final rays of light dipped beneath the mountains, and for the briefest moment- Link could have sworn Zelda’s eyes lit up just like those luminous stones.


	14. The Great Convergence: Part Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. This chapter is a little(?) more lighthearted because the next one... hoo boy.  
> 2\. Remember when Link thought it was a bad idea to compare Zelda to a dog? Watch him dig his own grave.

_‘Have you seen Lizalfos? They hide really well. They mimic frogs so don’t follow the sound unless Impa’s there. Are you praying a lot?’_

_‘No Lizalfos, Link. And yes, I’ve been attending a lot of sermons like the ones on the Plateau. I’m hoping that Overseer Aspen doesn’t notice I’m writing this under the cover of a few benches. I think Impa’s falling asleep? She’s slated to be the next High Priestess, but even she has a hard time listening to hours of prayers like these. Granted, she already has them memorized, but it makes me feel better to know there’s someone else as tired as I am._

_P.S. How is Mipha? She seemed very nervous about something when she and I were talking on the way to Inogo Bridge.’_

That particular exchange took a week. More specifically, the week after he’d been manhandled by a Lynel, and there were several things that stuck in his mind after reading over it once or twice.

First, he couldn’t imagine Impa slouched against a wall dozing off. It seemed too innocent for her. Link was convinced the woman never slept: dedicated to terrorizing knights like him at all hours of the day. Thus, even a century later he couldn’t understand how she went from being such a stern and strict character to a semi-batty old woman cackling about a birthmark on her granddaughter’s rear end.

Second, High Priestess? Of Kakariko? He was also trying to imagine how a woman with five curved blades hanging from her belt would be elected for the position. Maybe the job was more exciting than he assumed.

Lastly, Mipha wasn’t any different. He’d looked up at her after reading that last sentence, observing the girl as she conversed with another Zora. He was a blue pillar of reflective surfaces, what with him being armored more than the average Zora guard.

Loren, was it? He’d equipped Link with a weapon or two in the past.

She didn’t seem any different, debating calmly with the man about Toto Lake’s armory. 

He’d spent the next hour or so keeping a close eye on Mipha. Her steps were measured, her back straight, and her gaze clear. Still, he trusted Zelda’s instincts enough that he continued to observe her behavior. Of course, he was never meant for subtlety, and eventually gave up with a loud question in the midst of the marketplace:

“Are you nervous about something?”

It startled her. He hadn’t spoken in over two hours, after all.

“Nervous?” she sputtered. “Link, I am buying radishes.”

“Ah,” he said, and quickly specified, “Are you nervous about something other than radishes?”

“Wh-” Mipha paused as if something occurred to her, but she only shook her head. “I haven’t a clue what you’re talking about. What brought this on?”

Link held up Zelda's letter as if it was incriminating evidence. Mipha leaned in to read it, basket of vegetables rustling, and huffed.

 _“I_ was the nervous one? That seems a little like calling the kettle black, don’t you think? I assure you, I am fine. I was probably worried Sidon had already fallen off a cliff in my absence.”

There was the patter of feet as she walked off, leaving him with nothing but that answer to accept. His head tilted back when he thought over it- reluctant to believe her- but wound up shrugging and following after her anyway.

Link assumed she was like Zelda. If it was important, she’d eventually tell him, wouldn’t she? 

And so, he sent the princess his findings:

_‘Mipha’s weird but fine. Sidon is sleeping, too. Have you seen Bokoblins? Don’t go near caves, they like caves. But go on walks with Impa. You still get headaches sitting indoors, right?’_

There was no reply after that; it was two weeks of silence.

He’d kept his eyes trained on the postmen that would wander in and out of Zora’s Domain- none of which would approach him with letters besides the ones sent from Terry, Balder, or his father. They were all short, like his. He usually preferred it that way, but not seeing one that was at least a page long made him more annoyed than he cared to admit.

On one particular morning, Mipha was gone: busy with whatever it was princesses did all day. Thus, he was left to his own devices. He didn't mind. The freedom gave him plenty of time to explore on his own terms, argue with vendors about the balance of their weapons, or poke his nose around the barracks up North.

Although, he was beginning to discover he no longer felt as comfortable with solitude as before. It was something he was reminded of as he picked up an abandoned jar along the path to Toto Lake- suddenly overcome with a strange sense of absence.

A month was supposed to be a short span of time. They’d passed quickly before, hadn’t they? The ten months before the Champions’ ceremony felt like a blur, and it had all the consistency and clarity of a dream in his mind. In some ironic fashion, however, it was his nightmares he remembered more clearly from that year.

More eyes, glaring lights, and a sword that burned his skin right alongside the monsters it was meant to kill.

It’s what he’d been called before: a monster hiding in a child’s body.

He didn’t think it bothered him, but apparently it had. 

What had Zelda whispered after watching him behead all those creatures? _Monster?_ Had she been calling him one, too? He didn’t want to dwell on it; it hurt, but mostly because it didn’t feel untrue.

The moment that a hand grasped his pant leg, Link was pulled from his rather depressing train of thought.

“Blue!”

He knew who it was based upon that nickname alone- a new one gifted to him by a certain Zora who couldn’t remember his actual name. Sidon was staring up at him, eyes wide and blinking. That was the point at which his innocent request was voiced.

“Flowers.”

“...Flowers?”

“It’s Muzu’s birthday.”

Link immediately wanted no part of whatever this was, yet seeing the distress on Sidon’s face prevented him from refusing.

As it turned out, the little prince desperately needed his opinion on a myriad of ridiculous objects he’d collected. There was a book on Ecology, some glittering rocks, a collection of weeds he thought were pretty enough to be flowers, and a dirty piece of intricately patterned fabric.

Link sat cross legged in the grass, listening to Sidon explain his thinking on each of them, and trying to come to grips with the fact that he was helping find a birthday gift for a Zora that vehemently despised him. It went both ways, but still.

The feathered Zora held up his book. “Can’t read it. That means it’s good, right?”

“Yeah. Really good.”

He whispered fervently. _“Knew it.”_

The fabric caught his eye. A nice yellow. “We’re washing this.”

“It smells bad.”

“Like onions,” he agreed. “Where’d you get this?”

“Market.”

In other words, he stole it from a vendor’s shelf of onions. Link didn’t bother scolding him, and within minutes he was buying soap: Sidon helping him dump it in a bucket, hang it to dry, and wrap it around the textbook.

That was good enough, he decided. His companion for the day appeared to agree, eager to present his hard found gifts- and for once, Muzu was somewhere other than the throne room. He was still predictable though, busy flipping through documents in the library when Sidon ran up to him. Curious, Link hung back to observe from a distance as Sidon passed the items into Muzu's hands. It was a success; he practically fainted from joy.

As awful as that xenophobic Zora was, he adored his students with passion.

Of course, when Sidon pointed at Link to most likely inform Muzu of his involvement, that Zora looked aghast. 

Their eyes met. Link waved from the shelves he was leaning against, grinning malevolently. It was incredible; he’d never seen Muzu look so conflicted in his life- but nonetheless, Sidon rewarded him for his help with an onion, Muzu walked away with a new book, and that was that.

Much of his worry was alleviated when Zelda’s letter finally appeared several days before she did.

_‘Pardon the lack of a reply, Aspen caught me scribbling behind the benches during his sermon and confiscated my pen. (I only just managed to steal it back, and I’m praying I can finish this before he catches on.)_

_Yes, I’ve been allowed to go outside on occasion, and it does help, but they’re stricter with how far I can wander. Though, my headaches might be due to how little food I’m eating. They’re having me fast here, and I’m not allowed to consume anything until the day after tomorrow. Save some mackerel for me, will you? I’m going to eat myself sick when I get there, mark my words._

_P.S. I know you keep asking, but there are no monsters here. I promise you, not a hair on my head has been harmed by evil frogs or goblins in caves.’_

Mipha had been smiling when she watched him read it. 

“Are you feeling better?” she asked when he noticed her stare. 

He’d just about robbed the postman when he showed up in Zora’s Domain, snatching the letter out of his hands before he could even confirm it was for Link. The note smelled like lavender- incense that was always burning in the churches. That was how he knew.

“She talked about evil frogs,” was his vague reply as he folded up the note. For some reason, he was hesitant to share details.

That probably forced her to question her hearing. _“Pardon?_ What kind of conversations are you two having?”

Link shrugged. “It’s mostly her. She talks more.”

“I can imagine,” she agreed. “Though… you do as well, these days.”

He watched his feet dangle through the railings along their little platform. It overlooked the city below: a sea of colorful Zora bustling around. The sight made him dizzy.

“Do I?”

He could practically hear her rolling her eyes. “It is night and day, Link. You know, I feared for you... seeing you with that sword on your birthday.” Mipha’s tone lowered into something somber as she finished, “I was… lost on how to help you. It seemed nothing could pull you out of it.”

“You knew I had it?”

“Are you surprised?”

The sound he made was mirthful. “No.”

“Well, I’m glad you’ve worked some of it out... Although, it sounds like King Rhoam has made you complicit in a lie, hasn’t he? I was confused when he said that you spent every day training relentlessly for that blade, trying again and again to pull it… All I could remember was you snoring away underneath a tree for a week straight!”

She was laughing rather loudly.

The sky came into view as he leaned back: falling onto cool marble. “He wanted me to be an example.”

“For Hyrule?”

“And for Zelda.”

There was a pause that stretched too long before he glanced over to Mipha. She was staring into the distance, momentarily submerged in her thoughts. 

Then, with the sway of jewels, she looked back at him. “She doesn’t know?”

Link shook his head. “It’s best she doesn’t… sometimes she talks about how admirable it is, and that it makes her want to keep working. So I’ll tell her eventually, but not until she’s ready to hear it.”

Mipha was right. He’d never trained seriously a day in his life. Strength had come naturally to him, and his days were lackadaisical romps through the woods- spent splashing around in water when he wasn’t being taught how to use a whetstone or ride a horse at Kolomo Garrison. 

Training everyday until his hands bled? Wasn’t that the grand speech Rhoam made to Hyrule?

His hands would only bleed after plucking a berry from its thorns, nothing more.

He closed his eyes, replaying an older memory in his mind.

“Back when Medoh was being dug up, she said that whenever I was ready to tell her the truth about myself, she hoped she’d be ready to hear it. It’s… not exactly what she was talking about, but I think it applies to this.”

“I’m sorry...” Mipha had a hand over her face. 

He finally sat up again, locking his eyes onto the Southern mountains where Zelda was hidden away. “I think she’s getting close. The only reason I came forward is because she knew something was wrong with this, like you.” He flicked the pommel of his sword and added, “She can hold it, too. Something’s there for sure.”

“That’s good,” the Zora nodded, looking a little less despondent. “The Goddess has a plan for her, I’m sure of it.”

Link sighed angrily at that and stood, muttering a derisive rebuttal, “It’s a bad plan, I can tell you that.”

No doubt his friend didn’t approve of his words, but she got to her feet and followed after him down the platform without protest. The silence was plenty awkward, and when Mipha cleared her throat it was obvious she intended to break it.

“You know,” She crooned as she trotted next to him. “There was a letter you sent a while back about Medoh, correct? You said you were upset that Revali didn’t let you explore it? Among… many other things.”

Now that piqued his interest. His eyes darted to her like a dog being called for treats. _“Ruta?”_

“Yes!” The girl hopped in place- pleased with his eager tone. “Would you like to see? I’ve discovered it can shoot water into the air like a cannon!”

When Link started to march straight towards the bridge to it, the girl made a warbling, panicked noise and stopped him by his wrist. “We’ll go soon, I promise! There’s a few- um, things I need to get in order before we make the trip!”

There was a pout on his face when he crossed his arms. She was giggling at him, and tried to maintain a serious tone. “I’ll- I’ll let you aim the cannon and everything- as long as it’s not at people... so please wait?”

“You couldn’t have waited three days to tease me?” He grouched.

“I’m sorry,” her apology wasn’t at all sincere, “I couldn’t resist the opportunity to see you scrunch your nose like that. It’s quite adorable.”

Before Link could offer any sputtering retort to that, she backed away with a gleeful demand. “Look forward to it, we’ll get there at sunset! The view is stunning from Ruta.”

He couldn’t help but grin as he watched her spin on her heel and slip into the crowd, feeling a little more energetic after that exchange.

Link didn’t deserve her, he was certain. 

  


* * *

  


At first, Link didn’t understand why those memories had occurred to him when he stared at Zelda’s embittered, swollen face. Maybe he was trying to figure out what day, or what stupid thing he was doing while she’d been beaten and bruised.

Was it while catching fish? Was it while buying vegetables? Was it while collecting flowers with Sidon for Muzu’s birthday?

Too many pieces in that scene didn’t make any sense to him. It looked like she’d been thrown underneath a carriage, and yet not a thing was out of place. Her clothes were clean. No dirt, no wrinkles, and not a single frayed thread to be found.

There was nothing but a single, dark speck near her collar. The barest splatter of blood.

He wanted to run over, demand an answer, or ask what on earth had happened to try and understand why he didn’t feel it.

The Guardian, the Yiga, the hoard of monsters on Death Mountain- he’d felt all of them, hadn't he?

Impa’s stony gaze kept him standing where he was: his mouth glued shut. He couldn’t mask the shock on his face if he tried, of course, but he was confident that was something she would have deemed perfectly normal.

It wasn’t until Zelda brushed a finger over her split lip that Mipha finally took a step forward.

“Would you like me to heal your wounds? You must still be in pain.” Her hand was drifting towards the Hylian girl, but she merely brushed it aside- her gaze downcast.

“...No, thank you. I’d like to eat first, if that’s alright.”

 _‘I’d like to hold onto them a little longer,’_ is what Link thought she said.

Maybe out of sympathy, Mipha gasped near imperceptibly, and retracted her hand to her spear. “Of course,” she yielded, “let me take you to your room.”

Whatever fueled her hasty stride and strong declaration minutes before had clearly dissipated when the two of them ghosted past the guards now rising to their feet. A hand near her hood, pulling it down to hide away from any prying eyes. Link had stepped out of the way, catching sight of Zelda’s face as she lifted it to him for a brief moment: bearing a weak smile to greet him.

He almost ran after her and grabbed her arm after seeing that, but once again, Impa’s approaching form allowed common sense to retain its hold of him.

“I would tell you what happened,” she drawled, “but Her Highness insists she wants to explain.”

Her arms were delicately crossed, fingers daintily grazing her elbows. There wasn’t a hint of tension in her body. Link narrowed his eyes at her. “You’re not bothered by that?”

“Which? Her wounds or your rather… unlikely friendship?”

His shrug was jolted- awkward. It was both, really.

“Well, I am bothered by the former, not the latter. It’s good that you two get along- though I would hope you conduct yourselves in a _proper_ manner.” Her tone was utterly exasperated when she added, “At the very least, don’t do anything worse than Purah.”

The woman walked off, her braid weightless behind her. Link called after her to inform her of the mysterious note that was left in his care, yet she didn’t even look back- waving her hand in a tired manner.

“Give it to me later.”

And just like that, he was left alone.

Link wound up suffering through yet another sleepless night. It wasn’t without incident, however; there’d been a soft knock on his door, which he easily recognized as Mipha’s. It was always the same: two quick raps of her knuckles.

A gentle wind swept past him when he opened that door. The rooms they stayed in faced out into the open- Westward, and he almost shivered at the cold.

Mipha’s shoulders were framed by the glow of stones behind her when she kindly reported, “You’ve been rubbing off on her. She’s eaten herself into a coma.”

He couldn’t stop himself from laughing at that. 

“Bruises remain, but the worst of it has been taken care of.”

“Thanks,” he said. “...Was all that part of her visit?”

“Yes,” was her quiet admittance. She did not specify further.

He fell silent, and Mipha ended their little rendezvous.

Link’s head tapped against the door now closed behind him. It hurt; his mind wouldn’t stay quiet. It kept coming back to the same few, elusive questions: Why? How? When?

Regardless, Mipha’s report must have been enough of a comfort to let him drift off, because upon collapsing leaden onto his bed, he opened his eyes to morning light. A breeze was drifting through his room. It wasn’t right. He closed the door… didn’t he?

When Link peeled his face from the sheets to investigate, there was a dark figure looming over him.

He froze, and then a pillow was flying. He didn’t realize what was happening until it was thrown back in his face, and he stumbled ungracefully into a desk- objects clattering to the floor. Upon spitting out a feather, he saw Impa was there: a hand on her hip whilst another was raised. Her fingers wiggled in greeting.

She appeared to be very unimpressed.

 _“You,”_ he seethed as he attempted to straighten the nightstand. “What do you want?”

Behind her, his door was left swung open. He could hear birds squawking. _Did she pick the lock?_

“Give me the letter,” she commanded.

Keeping his eyes trained on her, Link slowly pulled open the nightstand’s drawer. It was scraping. Impa’s eyes twitched at the noise, and a second later, she had the paper in her hands.

“...Can you read that?” He deigned to ask.

“Yes,” her reply was monotone, eyes scanning the parchment. “You can’t?”

He couldn’t think of an answer to that.

Another moment passed before the woman’s lip suddenly curled.

 _“Wretch,”_ she snarled. “This is disgusting even for you, Purah.” 

He inched backwards- almost pressing against the wall as she crumpled the paper, flung it centimeters past his head, and stormed off.

“I am spending the morning with King Dorephan!” Impa yelled before she exited, “Attend to Her Highness!”

With that, his door slammed shut, and his morning officially began.

Zelda’s room was empty- save for dinner plates scattered across the floor. Mipha hadn’t been lying, that was for certain. They were picked clean: not a shred of wasted mackerel to be seen.

A quick inspection told him there was no note or trace of where she might have wandered off to, so he glanced to the left and then to the right. Flipping a coin in his head, he went right.

The path led up a set of stairs and straight into the rest area for the Zora. He looked out over the pools of water, searching for any familiar silhouettes in the crowd. First, he saw the bright red of Mipha, and then- lower, the vivid blue of Zelda’s back.

Strangely, she was on her knees leaning over a pool right alongside Sidon.

The two of them had their heads stuck in the water.

Link took a moment to absorb the scene before him- let the gears in his head try to work out what he was seeing- but he couldn’t come up with any theory as to why Mipha was casually watching Zelda drown herself.

She offered a soft _‘Oh hello’_ when he walked up beside her before turning her attention back to the two at their feet. They stared in silence. Bubbles were coming up. Slowly, Sidon was tipping forward, and it wasn’t until he rolled straight into the water that Zelda tore her face out of the pool with a loud gasp.

She coughed: hacking and wheezing onto the marble as Sidon crawled back out.

A month, he thought.

He waited impatiently for an entire month to see Zelda again, and this was what he was rewarded with. 

It may have been long overdue, but Link was beginning to question his own taste in women.

“Did you see them?” Mipha inquired once the other girl caught her breath.

“Yes,” Zelda croaked. Still on her knees, she turned her head to look up at Mipha with a smile. It fell the moment she saw Link staring down at her with a look of mild disgust and confusion on his face. Humiliation gripped her.

Her speed was impressive: she shot to her feet quick enough that she was practically a blur of blue and yellow. However, any admiration he held for her dexterity was ruined when she slid on the wet surface and nearly tumbled back into the water.

“Snails!” Zelda shouted. “I was looking at the snails!” 

Sidon was waddling past her into Mipha’s arms. Link didn’t say anything. That only made Zelda flounder more, and try to change the subject. “Hello! Good morning, it’s wonderful to see you after a month. How have you been?”

His arms were crossed.

Mipha piped up, offering the poor girl some assistance. “Would you all like breakfast? And after, you two can catch up?”

“That sounds lovely,” she smiled again, but winced at the wound still on her lip. Link glared, and Zelda pretended to be highly interested in a wall as Mipha ushered them out of the area towards wherever food was waiting.

The princess’ appetite was as large as it was the night before. Link was stunned: even he had a hard time keeping up with her as she drank an entire bowl of soup and grabbed at loaves of bread like a raccoon picking through garbage.

It didn’t take long for her to notice he was gawking. He was convinced she would look embarrassed, but in a twist of events, her eyes flicked down to his plate.

“Are… are you going to eat that?” she was pointing to some fruit.

Link slid his plate away from her- possessive of his apples. Zelda looked a little dejected and turned back to her own plate. He tried to ignore it. Predictably, two seconds was all it took for him to give into the strange guilt worming in his chest and relinquish half of his food.

“Oh, that’s very kind of you,” she chirped.

“Princess,” Mipha said between the other girl’s mouthfuls, “Did you enjoy your lessons?”

Zelda nodded eagerly. “Your gems are incredibly fascinating. Luminous stones and Thanatology? Honestly, I wish I could have studied under Aspen at the castle. Our books have never mentioned such practices,” it seemed like she was starting to ramble, but she fell quiet. “...Though in hindsight I understand why my father had them removed.”

“So can I,” Mipha was chiding her for something, but he couldn’t quite figure out what. “I hope you won’t think of running any experiments on your own.”

“...Of course. I can assure you I will be purchasing books from your library, however. I’m very intrigued now, and I doubt I can contain myself.”

There was a dramatic sigh before Mipha stood to pick up her brother. 

“Very well,” she relented. Link was quickly offered some warning: “I advise you not to let her near sharp objects or cemeteries until her fervor interest in geology has passed. Now, if you’ll excuse me I must join those in the throne room.”

“When will you be finished?” Zelda questioned. 

“Noon at the latest. I hope. I fear the sun may set by the time Muzu has finished interrogating- what- what was her name again?”

“Impa,” they answered at the same time.

Mipha stamped her foot. “I _will_ catch that woman! You'll see!”

Even after nearly three years, Impa had still managed to elude the poor girl. The two Hylians watched as she stomped off with determination, water splashing beneath her feet and Sidon tittering in her arms. 

  


* * *

  


Zelda led him all the way to Ruto Mountain. She'd had been chatty earlier, yet it seemed Mipha had taken her voice with her as she’d left their company. She was gathering her thoughts for something, thinking and debating a hole in her head no doubt.

An explanation is what she said she’d finally provide.

Link was starting to understand that whatever she’d been doing at those temples was frowned upon- perhaps even forbidden within Central Hyrule. It worried him. It made him anxious. It made him angry for trusting her.

“First of all,” Zelda’s voice sounded from ahead of him, her head tilted back to stare at a swaying willow they were passing. “I will assure you that it was far from cruel, and it was maintained that I had the right to stop at any point that I wished.”

She glanced back at him, maybe to measure his reaction to that. In the brief picture he caught of her own expression, it looked glassy. Difficult to read in its simplicity.

“Impa and Overseer Aspen chided me each day before the final trial. I think he called me _‘a wild little thing with an iron will’._ Honestly, I don’t know if that was a compliment or not.” She fiddled with her Slate, but there was no glow. The screen was blank. “...If memory serves, I believe I already discussed my situation with you beneath the castle.”

Her voice caught in her throat, but she forced out the words anyway. “And, well, you’ve already heard what my father thinks of it, so I won’t repeat myself.”

Their steps slowed as they came to an open precipice. It was a high ledge, providing a clear view of the land to the East of the Domain: steep cliffs, waterfalls, and all.

Link continued walking, coming to a stop next to her. She wouldn’t sit, and instead tapped the Slate as she frowned at the expanse before them. It almost looked like she was trying to work up the courage to leap off that cliff.

“There are… few methods we know of that are likely to coax one’s abilities to the surface. Fasting, prayer, meditation, and pain are ones that reap the most success.”

A weight fell onto his chest. “...You tried all of them.”

“Yes. These bruises were my choice.”

That irked Link, but he didn’t interrupt.

Zelda looked back at him, seemingly fearful of what he would think. There was a deep breath, and then:

“I’ve done this in secret simply because it is a matter of pride. Proxies of the Goddess Herself, resorting to starvation and pain? If my father knew of my actions... well, he would either spit on me or weep with shame.”

She put her hands on her hips and faced the wind.

“It gave me hope, however.” There was a finger on her chin as she recalled what sounded like a fond memory. “After the tests were complete, Aspen told me that I was only _‘utterly lacking in control of my thoughts’.”_

Zelda nodded, displaying confidence. “Now that I have explored all other avenues we know of, I am certain of what needs to be done.”

Crossing all of Hylia’s thresholds was what she said she needed to do; there was nothing left but to complete her pilgrimage to the fullest. Lanayru and Akkala were within Zelda’s sights now, and it would be where she placed all her remaining hope.

“I never could have predicted it... but that sword is a great comfort. Being able to hold it gave me confidence that there is something within me, buried as it is.”

Link was suddenly resentful. “You said I’d be bored,” he cited, “but you just didn’t want me listening to you screaming inside a temple, is that it?”

The expression that passed over her face was either guilt or her own muted anger- maybe both to some degree. “...That was a factor in my decision, yes. I thought you’d stop me.”

She thought he couldn’t handle it.

He wanted to argue, but she was entirely correct in that assumption. He would’ve dragged her out, or beaten the first priest that touched her. Groaning, Link ran his hands over his face.

The sound of chirping birds mingled with her laughter. It made him want to yell and scold her.

Zelda clearly sensed that in him, because she raised her chin: growing defensive. “Link… haven’t you done the same?”

Hypocrisy. That’s what she saw in him.

Reckless behavior. Nearly falling to his death on a mountain, throwing himself into the midst of a horde of monsters, demanding to participate in a dangerous tourney, climbing a Hinox as a child- his stupidity was endless. Most of the pain he’d experienced in his life was due to a whim; and Zelda’s decision was one that held weight for her- held purpose.

Who was he to admonish her?

Even worse, she believed the lie that he’d spent most his life willingly suffering all for some sword in the woods.

He wanted to change the subject.

“How are you going to stop him from finding out?” Keeping secrets from Rhoam certainly didn’t end well for him, after all.

“Impa… has made an exception.” She glanced towards a dam further into the valley. “As for the temples, they are under Zora rule. Upon having me take an oath that this will be the one and only attempt I make employing such methods, Mipha agreed that it is not necessary to bring it to my father’s attention.”

“...And that,” she muttered, “is the long and short of it.”

A hush fell between them as he tried to process what she told him.

Link glanced over his shoulder: to the pommel of his sword. She was never in true danger, was she? With nothing else to go on, he came to the reluctant conclusion that it was either distance, or lethal danger that tethered him to her.

If it was distance, he’d make a point never to stray too far from her again.

Kicking a rock off the cliff was what he wanted to do. Something- anything. He wished he still had Daruk’s weapon. However, looking at her brooding expression, Link couldn’t help but feel drained of all his frustration.

“The oath you took,” he asked, dread roiling in his gut, “do you plan on keeping it?”

She said the trials had given her hope, but it didn’t look that way to him. She stared past the cliff into nothing, and there was something in her eyes that made her seem far older than she was: tired, defeated.

There was an anger there, as well, tensing her jaw.

“...Yes, of course.” Zelda turned on her heel, taking several steps towards him. “Is there anything else you’d like to know?”

“No.” 

There was a fleeting moment that she dedicated to studying his face. Instead of addressing what emotion was certainly there, she apologized:

“I won't do it again... I promise.”

“Are you alright?”

"You're a worrywart," Zelda murmured contentedly, reaching up to ruffle his hair. The action seemed to comfort her, smiling brightly as she gathered herself with a suggestion, “Shall we go then? I’ve never been to the markets. Would you show me?”

An answer wasn’t necessary. Those were simply words meant to end their conversation. He watched her return to the path, wary after everything- worried after everything.

Link wondered if she was aware he knew the truth.

This whole stunt was all to make herself feel better; injuring herself, starving herself- it was all just to give the illusion of progress: a form of self comfort that came with treating the reflection in her mirror as some sort of experiment.

Trials, she called it. Tests, like the ones she’d record in her notebooks. He could see it, Zelda still bleeding, bent over a book. He could hear her pen scratching away as she tried desperately to make sense of it all.

How frustrating was it to her, knowing there was something inside her which couldn’t be broken down into numbers or letters?

Really, the girl didn’t know any other way to cope, did she? With the mind of a scientist, it must have felt like the definition of insanity to her: being told to pray endlessly only to achieve nothing. Something else had to be done, she’d thought- anything. Even if it came at the cost of what little pride she had left.

What she was left with wasn’t hope. It was disappointment in that all she could do was return to prayer and blind faith.

But faith was an irrational thing, and it would continue to elude someone like her.

It was why he had no doubt Zelda’s hatred for Hylia far surpassed his own. And it was why Link would maintain as much faith in that promise of hers as she would her own prayers. 

  


* * *

  


“I assure you, Ser Muzu, His Majesty King Rhoam has no intention of arranging a marriage. I don’t know _where_ you heard that-”

“I don’t care whether it’s true or not! Tell His Majesty we will not stand for such things! Our princesses will marry whomever they-”

“Again, Ser Muzu-”

It was barely noon, but Muzu and Impa were quarreling in the courtyard. Mipha stood pattering here and there with Sidon in her arm, looking absolutely humiliated by whatever was being debated. She was trying and failing to interject, and upon seeing Link and Zelda returning through the gates, her protests grew frantic.

“Muzu! Dear Muzu, while I sincerely appreciate your concern, I promise you there- there is nothing to fear!”

The Zora shook his head, disbelieving. _“Your Highness,_ you do not understand. These things must be nipped in the bud!”

“There is nothing to be nipped, _Ser Muzu!”_ Impa hissed.

That didn’t deter him, and the two launched back into their tirade. Mipha resigned to placing her free hand over her face, making a miserable noise. Without a second to waste, Zelda jogged right up to the three of them- specifically, her Zora counterpart. 

“Would you let me borrow him?” Zelda requested between their shouting. She gestured to the boy in Mipha’s arms.

Mipha appeared baffled, but handed her Sidon nonetheless. The Hylian girl then turned, walked three paces, and held out her newly acquired child to Impa.

“Would you please hold him? My arms are terribly stiff.”

Impa also looked baffled by the sudden request. However, the woman took one look at Sidon, and, much to Link’s utter shock, smiled warmly before drawing him against her chest. Her attitude completely flipped. Her tone when she spoke to Muzu was almost serene- saintly.

“Your worry is _entirely_ fair, Ser Muzu. Please, accept my sincere apologies. I will inform His Majesty with haste.”

Even that Zora seemed shaken by the turn of events. Without a doubt he’d left his schedule open for at least one more hour of arguing.

“V-Very good... Now, I must return to our King Dorephan.”

He skittered off quick after that.

Zelda leaned in, whispering to Link as Impa began to coo at Sidon, “She _adores_ children.” She snapped her fingers. “It puts her in a trance almost instantly.”

Link bent over, desperately trying to suppress a bout of laughter with his hands. Zelda grinned toothily at him as Mipha began to fervently whisper her thanks over Sidon’s babbling. Impa had complimented his feather, and apparently the small Zora had plenty to say about it.

The woman blinked at Link’s snickering, and obliviously asked, “What’s so funny?”

A minute later, Impa despaired when Sidon was taken into his nannies’ care. Recovering her composure took a matter of seconds- that odd spell broken as quickly as it’d been cast. With a straightened back, the woman twirled her braid like a rope and addressed Link.

“Please stay by Her Highness’ side for today. I’m departing to Inogo Bridge to retrieve a few of my fellow Sheikah.”

Her scribes, she specified.

The other two had already wandered off; Zelda leaned over a railing, observing something as Mipha’s hand grazed her shoulder. They were talking.

“...Impa,” his words were strangely timid. “Did you know a woman named Harlow?”

The twirling of her braid stopped. Her lips pursed ever so slightly, eyes widening just a fraction. “Your mother?”

He nodded. “How did you know her?”

She glanced away, blinking in a manner that suggested a flurry of memories had just occurred to her. Impa frowned. They must not have been good. 

“I’m her replacement.” The woman looked at him again, offering, “...I can tell you more later, if you’re interested.”

“Thanks,” Link said as she went. Impa turned slightly: just far enough for her to raise a hand and wiggle her fingers as always. He put his own hands on his hips, a little proud. That may have been their most civil conversation yet- if it even counted as one. Maybe there was hope they could get along?

It was already amazing that she was willing to leave him without a chaperone considering he’d destroyed a dining room in his quest to strangle Revali.

However, watching her go, Link couldn’t help but notice that even in the water of the courtyard her steps were silent, and he was left with the daunting impression that Impa seemed more like a ghost than his own mother.

When he approached his two remaining companions, their exchange had turned into some sort of argument.

“Link,” Mipha called, “You must hear what she’s told me!”

He waited expectantly. So did Mipha, but Zelda merely stood: murmuring something neither could understand.

“Don’t be scared. Go on, tell him,” the girl insisted.

Zelda’s face scrunched into a pout, and her gaze dropped to the water below as she mumbled a second time.

“What was that?” he probed.

Zelda grabbed Mipha's arm and brought her close, whispering at her with distress. Link’s interest was officially piqued when he made out a few words:

_“Going to..fun...me!”_

Mipha’s hushed reply was stern, disbelieving of whatever she said- at least until she caught sight of the smirk growing on his face.

 _“Link,”_ the only sensible member of their group urged. “This is important. Do _not_ make fun of her.”

“Look,” Zelda pointed at him like an indignant child when his expression didn’t change. “I told you, Mipha. He doesn’t even know what this is about and he already thinks this is funny.”

“Surely he’s more mature than that.” The glower Mipha sent him was a muted warning. It did scare him, a little, and stoicism swept over him with a nod. It was a promise that he would take it seriously.

At that point, Zelda was more interested in making her point than avoiding embarrassment. 

“Just you _watch,”_ she jabbed a finger at Mipha, losing all control over her polite tone. Then, she sucked in a breath, swiveled her head to Link, and confessed:

“I cannot swim! I can only float like a duck!” 

...Oh, the poor thing.

There was a kind smile on his face as he spoke in a gentle tenor, “That’s normal, Zelda. Not everyone learns.”

She recoiled at his understanding as if she’d been given an electric shock. The girl actually seemed more offended that he hadn’t made fun of her.

Mipha sighed with exasperation whilst drawing the natural conclusion that Zelda had been overreacting. “Of course it is. See? You needn’t be so insecure, dear.”

Some sort of squawking noise came out of her.

The Zora continued to shake her head, saying, “Would you give me a moment? I’m going to retrieve something for you so we can continue this conversation.”

Zelda was still speechless; she appeared lost- as if she’d baked an entire pie only for it to fall on the ground. Mipha hastily pattered off with a skip in her step. There was a resolute set to her shoulders. She was scheming, no doubt.

Of course, the moment that girl vanished down some stairs, Link’s head snapped to Zelda: a mocking grin plastered all over his face.

He raised his hands, gesturing to go along with his gibe, “Can you... paddle like a tiny dog?”

Never had he seen fury take a person so quickly.

 _“You!”_ she seethed, “You set me up, you cretin!”

Zelda raised a hand like she wanted to smack his arm, but froze as she suddenly remembered they were in public. Link’s grin spread farther. Her fingers balled into a fist, and she shook it at him.

 _“This isn’t over,”_ she vowed.

Admittedly, the snarl that came out of her throat was chilling. It almost convinced Link that he’d made a terrible mistake.

Mipha returned as fast as she’d promised: a flat wooden board in her hands.

“What… what is that?” Zelda questioned once it was presented to her.

“A kickboard!” Mipha stated as she accepted the odd gift, examining it. Her smile warm- angelic. “To help you learn.”

The Hylian girl wasn’t as keen on the idea. “Oh, that’s not-”

“Necessary?” Mipha swept her arm across the view of twenty waterfalls surrounding them. “Please tell me you aren’t serious, princess. What if you fall into a river and Link can’t get to you in time?”

He scoffed under his breath at that. _‘What if he couldn’t get to her in time?’_ That was insulting; did she forget how fast he was?

“You hush!” Mipha snipped, snapping her fingers at him before returning to her motherly insistence, “Please, it would comfort me greatly if you at least knew the basics.”

“But… I don’t know who would teach me.”

“We can, of course. However... I admit I may not be much help. We Zora swim very differently, as you are aware.”

With that, they turned to Link. Zelda clearly hadn't gotten over his teasing, and looked disgusted by the thought.

“Impa…?” A desperate suggestion.

“She’s gone.”

She tried once more to refuse, but Mipha simply wouldn’t have it.

“Listen,” she instructed, “get her started where the currents are gentle. I will join you as soon as I am finished having a discussion with Muzu.”

(A _‘discussion’._ That was bad news for Muzu. Mipha rarely used that term; it was a good indication her tutor was one transgression away from being persuaded into compliance by her spear. Link knew this better than most people: what with being on the receiving end of that sharp object as a ten-year-old. It was a frightening experience which led him to advise any thrill seeker in Zora’s Domain not to use the tail end of the city’s carp sculpture as a diving board while Mipha was in town. In hindsight, it was fair. Even his father yelled at him for that one.)

And just like that, Mipha was off in search of her prey.

Zelda’s posture was as up to standard as a withering plant. She regarded him with a similar gaze, only prompting Link to put his hands on his hips and deliver her the harsh truth, “It’s time, Zelda.”

“...Can we eat first?” she whimpered, to which he replied:

“Learn to paddle and I’ll throw you a bone.”

She didn’t have a retort for that, but Link had no doubt it was because she was busy fantasizing about drowning him. 

  


* * *

  


Water lapped against the edge of their exceptionally small inlet. The water was clear: tinted blue and just shallow enough that Zelda would only be submerged to her shoulders.

It took some work, trying to find the equivalent of a kiddie pool in Zora’s Domain.

He’d thrown his tunic and the light chainmail beneath it onto a rock, rolling up the sleeves of his brown shirt. Zelda, however, remained still and watched the water as if something was about to jump out of it and eat her.

She might’ve been scared.

“You’re going to swim in all that?”

Those words managed to pull her from her trance, and she thought over it. “I don’t have much underneath this, Link. It’d- it'd be very inappropriate.”

Inogo Bridge. The memory flashed, but he squashed it down and started digging around in their things- pointedly ignoring the flush of her cheeks, and the way she, too, pointedly fixed her own gaze onto the babbling water.

His hands grazed cotton, and he pulled out the shirt he was looking for. After trading it for her board, he gestured to a hidden nook.

She spread it out, glanced at him, and wandered off to do as he indicated.

They were soon a matching pair of brown shirts standing before the water’s edge. The current wasn’t strong, yet was plenty to carry one away if they allowed it.

Still, Zelda seemed to think even that was too daunting. She was gathering her courage: taking deep elongated breaths. Link felt the temptation to just push her in, but if he wanted her to learn anything he’d have to make sure he didn’t scare her off.

“Push me!”

Link flinched. It caught him off guard. “What?”

“Push me!” Zelda repeated, determined. “I won’t jump in, otherwise!”

Link shoved her before she could change her mind. She yelped, water sprayed, and her lessons officially began.

After two hours, he was sitting on the edge, shouting at Zelda as she kicked her legs.

“Straighten your back!”

Zelda was gritting her teeth, swimming against the current.

He leaned forward, putting his chin in his hand. “You’re drifting. Kick your legs faster!”

Was this in the job description, he wondered? Teach the princess of Hyrule, descendant of a literal Goddess, to swim? Didn’t Mipha say she regretted teaching Sidon to swim up waterfalls? Giving Zelda the power to chase after shiny fish or dive off cliffs was starting to feel like a terrible mistake.

It was when the girl collapsed against her board, forehead pressed against wood, that he allowed her to stop and rest.

“I think… that’s enough… for today.” She breathed- though it was more of a plea than anything else. Link put his hand out, and she grabbed it: pulling herself onto the ledge to sit next to him.

He had some bad news for her. “It’s not me you’ll have to bargain with.” he directed her to Zora’s Domain as a familiar red and blue figure dove into the water. “The drill sergeant’s coming.”

She whimpered again. Link patted her head; his sympathy was genuine that time.

Mipha swam over in less than a minute- practically a tornado within the lake. Once her head poked out of the water, the Zora proudly lifted a basket. “Shall we have a picnic?”

Zelda actually leapt back into the water to grab it.

There were heated negotiations over their lunch. A radish was waved threateningly by both parties. As he’d predicted, Mipha would not allow the lessons to end. She was a strict teacher- to the point that even Anabelle would seem lenient. The Zora princess wasn’t as easily guilted as Link, either, and she even admonished him for backing up Zelda’s pleas to stop.

“It is the point at which one begins to complain that the real lessons begin!” She declared, swiping her picnic basket closed.

(That was a famous motto of hers. He’d seen the exact moment she’d come across it in the etchings along one of her great grandmother's memorials, and the way her eyes had lit up with inspiration was both endearing and foreboding at the same time. Though as much as he complained, he always figured she and that old woman must have been onto something, because Mipha was the only person Link heard of who’d managed to teach a child barely two years old to swim up waterfalls as tall as a mountain.)

As such, Zelda was soon standing atop a cliff overlooking the deepest parts of the lake. Her hair had already dried in all the wind, making her look frazzled as she gaped at Mipha’s newest demand.

“I am not leaping off of this, Mipha!”

“Fear must be conquered, princess.”

“It’s over twenty feet high!”

“That’s not bad,” Link commented. Knowing Mipha, it was actually merciful.

The betrayal on her face was pitiful.

Her adamant tutor stepped forward, a hand grazing Zelda’s back as she motioned to the deep waters below. 

“We’ve already taught you to dive. I promise, I would not demand anything beyond your capabilities.” She then pointed to the setting sun. “This will be our final task for today before that storm up there rolls in. All you need to do is dive, and I shall carry you back to our city. You said you wanted to visit the library, no?”

Some of the Domain was already alight with green. He yawned; it was an alluring color, and Zelda seemed as tempted as he was to retreat into its embrace. She moved her foot. Dirt crumbled: tumbling into the lake.

The girl turned to Link for something- unsure of herself. He patted her head again before overruling Mipha’s command without room for debate.

“We won’t force you.”

Somehow, that encouraged her; Zelda squeezed her eyes shut to force out the words:

“No. I will do it.”

Mipha clapped gleefully as she backed away. “Good! Be brave!”

Link remained, keeping an eye on Zelda as she readied herself. She was too nervous: paying more attention to the water below than her own stance. He tapped on her shoulder.

“Your feet are too far apart.”

Her eyes snapped down, and she shifted quickly. “Oh, right, like this-”

Zelda slipped.

There was a scream as she keeled backwards: arms spiraling like windmills. Link gasped in horror and threw his arm out- the girl latching frantically onto his wrist as gravity overtook both of them.

Mipha yelled something as well, but the wind rushing in his ears drowned out whatever it was.

Before he knew it, they were submerged deep within the water. His senses became muted: his hearing retreating and collapsing into his head as his vision became distorted. The water was clear, but the sky above was too dark. He couldn’t make out anything other than the sheen of Zelda’s hair floating next to him as he stared up.

Her hands were still holding onto his arm- but her grip suddenly tightened into something painful. Link wasn’t at all panicking: their descent had slowed enough that it would be easy to return to the surface. He assumed she didn’t know that, and glanced over to start pulling her up.

Unlike his, Zelda’s body was facing down. Her eyes were open and fearful: focused on something deeper in the water. Whatever it was, it was lighting up her face- the color identical to the stones littering Zora’s Domain.

Link twisted further.

That was when panic seized him.

Just beneath them was a colossal animal. It was long: possessing a tail that stretched so far he couldn’t see the end. It seemed like a webbed dragon to him; it looked like the kind of creatures he’d seen painted on Castle Town’s alleyways or drawn in the picture books his father had taught him to read with.

That thing’s body was glowing an unearthly green.

It moved, and its four pale eyes locked onto the Hylians who had disturbed its waters.


	15. The Great Convergence: Final

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. This is another chapter where I probably need to apologize to Link  
> 2\. That's it. That's all I have to say  
> 3\. Sorry Link

That monster never moved.

Before he knew it, Link was being pulled to the surface. The hand around his forearm was familiar: a small thing that only could have belonged to Mipha. He kept his grip on Zelda tight as all three of them barreled up to safety- away from the creature lurking at their heels.

The girl’s movement within the water was faster than Link was on land- faster than Revali spiraling into the sky. He didn’t even realize they’d breached the surface until the world tipped on its axis and his head smacked against dirt. Mipha had sent both of them tumbling unceremoniously onto dry earth, and they were coughing, scrambling to recover.

They couldn’t have been under more than ten seconds, but it felt like minutes- hours. 

Getting to his knees, he tried to wade through the fear that had coursed through him, or collect what few thoughts he could. The waters surrounding Zora’s Domain were as deep as the ocean, but not once had he seen a creature that size lurking in its depths.

It could have swallowed them whole. It wouldn’t even have had to chew.

Zelda was struggling to move her hair out of her face when Link whirled around to face Mipha.

“What was that?!” 

The Zora girl stood at the water’s edge, looking astonished by the color pulsing from beneath the rippling waters. The current had grown stronger: twisting around Zora’s Domain.

“I apologize,” she amended as she finally turned back to them. “If I had known it had already arrived, I would never have encouraged anyone to be in the water.”

She was expecting that thing?

“That was the first one,” Zelda’s voice was strained, but calmer when she finally spoke- no longer paralyzed by fear. Her eyes met Link’s, and then Mipha’s. “Th- the Augur, was it?”

“Yes,” the princess confirmed, “it is the first of many to come.”

The two Hylians joined Mipha where she stood. Many people were flooding to the city’s railings, peering down at the massive creature now circling Zora’s Domain. Very distantly, he could hear shouting. Thunder rumbled, accompanied by the thrum of distant rainfall.

A sense of wonder came over him. His expression fell to mimic the Zora girl at his side.

“I told you that you would be lucky, didn’t I?” Mipha crooned at him. “You’ll get to see something that only happens once a millennia. I wanted it to be a surprise but,” there was an uncharacteristic snort from her, “I didn’t expect it to turn out quite like this.”

She then swept her spear out, motioning to the expanse of the water.

“What you saw was the Zoras’ ancestor. It’s here to greet us before the rest of its kin arrive.”

“It’s-”

Sound came.

There was a story Link’s father once told him when he couldn’t sleep: about a trip to Lurelin village he and his unit had been assigned to. The man had tried and failed to describe the sound made by the whales that momentarily breached the ocean’s surface. It was only while standing on that shoreline that Link finally understood what he meant, hearing that high pealing noise which echoed across Zora’s Domain.

“We should have time,” Mipha ruminated. “A day or so before the rest ascend from their caverns.”

The Zora glanced over to the both of them, opening her mouth to say more, but stopped short. The two of them were shivering in the darkness, teeth chattering.

“Right... I forgot you Hylians run awfully cold.”

Link and Zelda stumbled into Zora’s Domain by way of Western bridge. All three of them had no intention of entering the water again with that creature swimming rapid circles around the city. The waves had become even stronger: a whirlpool that slammed against the mountainsides, and most likely, even Mipha couldn’t have fought against that current.

As such, the trip back took nearly an hour. It’d been a long day. Far too long.

Luckily, no one seemed to notice Hyrule’s princess and Champion standing soggy and miserable.

Most of the city’s populace were still bent over the edges: observing the strange creature below. Travelers Rito, Hylian, Goron, and Gerudo alike appeared the most unsettled by what was happening while Zora children laughed or gazed on in wonderment.

They stood for several minutes, joining the citizens in their gawking. It was dark now, and the glow of its long, irregularly shaped form could be seen clearly within black waters.

It hadn’t quite set in that they’d been mere feet from that thing.

The throne room was crowded with what he guessed to be a number shy of seventy. Attendants were rushing in and out, even bumping into the princesses in all their haste. Mipha’s presence was strong, however, and much of the chatter died as she strode in. She came to a stop at the center before her father- back straight as she greeted:

“I apologize for my tardiness! We were on the land below when it arrived.”

Her father sat forward in his chair. Dorephan looked like a child: bright with excitement. “Are you ready, my dear?”

“Yes!” she gave a sharp nod and also stepped forward. “I am excited! Will Aspen be joining us?”

“He will be here shortly,” in a surprising turn, he looked to Zelda as she stood near the entrance, hands clasped before her. She seemed as lost in the chaos as Link was. “Would you join my daughter when it is time?”

“Forgive me,” the Hylian princess said, “But is this event not for the Zora? I would hate for my presence to cause any dissent.”

“You are no mere Hylian, princess. You are the blood of the Goddess which resides over this land, are you not?”

“I… that is true.”

“Then please, do us the honor of giving our ceremony your blessing.”

Zelda bowed deeply. “The honor is mine, King Dorephan.”

He smiled wide. There was the sound of a scroll unfurling- the parchment falling to the floor. Impa stood with several other Sheikah who had arrived within that day, murmuring instructions to one another. Papers were in their hands, bottles of ink at their feet. Sidon was picking up one of those jars, and a Sheikah very quickly bargained it out of his hands with a pale feather.

Link recognized none of them; they must have been from Impa’s circle rather than Purah’s.

It was impressive they’d arrived so quickly from Inogo Bridge. Seeing a few of them were still damp from water, he guessed they must have teamed up with Zora- navigating the rivers rather than the winding paths leading to Zora’s Domain.

“Do well to record these events, priestess,” the king called out to her. “We plan to outdo our ancestors in this celebration! I will not stand for losing to them.”

Impa turned her painted face up to Dorephan: an eyebrow raised as she quipped, “I’ve seen the records, Your Majesty, and I assure you that will be quite the challenge.”

The man burst out laughing alongside several of his attendants. Even Muzu spared a mirthful scoff.

Whatever party their great, great, great grandparents had thrown must have been impressive.

In a rare sight, King Dorephan was rising from his throne as his rumbling voice carried over the crowd before him. “I will address our people. Mipha, would you meet Aspen at the bridge? I believe I spied his lantern just now.”

Zelda’s wrist was taken by the other girl as she was led out of the room. Link followed after, catching up with them just in time to hear the end of Mipha’s sentence.

“-I will be just a stone’s throw away.”

“What is he having you do?” Link questioned the two of them. They kept up their pace: quick as they all trotted down those long stairs. Zelda’s hand swiped from the railing as she directed him to the East.

He could see both trepidation and intrigue in her eyes as she informed him, “We will meet them in the lake when the rest appear. Although, I shall only be an observer. Mipha will be responsible for carrying out the greeting.”

Zelda and Mipha, going down into the water with ancient- most likely- carnivorous fish? That sounded like a terrible idea. Could he tell them that? Probably not, because he was jealous of them. 

King Dorephan’s voice was an echo behind them, growing fainter as they approached the Great Bridge. Their ancestors were coming, he said. They would rise, take what they needed, and return to their homes deep within the earth.

Link’s first meeting with Aspen was a memorable one.

He was a tall, dark figure: scales and skin alike a splatter of black and green. Looking back, the way that man moved reminded him too much of a Yiga skipping for a banana.

It was safe to assume he could see them from beneath his strange headpiece by the way he grinned and skittered over with a warm greeting. 

“My darling Highnesses!” His arms were spread wide, the lantern on his curved walking stick swaying and rattling.

“Hello!” Mipha and Zelda greeted at the same time, waving. They seemed fond of him.

Link rested against one of the pillars with arms crossed and an examining glare on his face. Overseer Aspen: the head of the five temples Zelda had visited. Was he the one that approved her trials?

His glare grew sharper. When the man noticed him, he said, “I wasn’t the one who approved it, no. It’s quite barbaric, but this little minx stamped her foot and convinced that goblin of a clergy weasel to smack her around a bit.”

Link’s expression quickly changed to one of confusion- shock. Had he said that out loud? Judging by the two girls’ own bewildered frowns, he hadn’t, and he suddenly wanted to distance himself from that Zora.

The man ignored all their confusion to purr at the fish- or dragon- or serpent below. “Just look at him. Only the Goddess Herself could have created such a being.”

Every time he looked at that fish, it felt like he was seeing it for the first time. It didn’t seem real. It seemed too much like something that didn’t belong on the Earth, or, perhaps, was something that wouldn’t abide by the same natural laws they would.

It seemed like something that a child would dream up rather than a Goddess.

In his mind, Link wondered if it could jump like a Molduga.

“I would think so,” Aspen mused.

His response was rapid. _“Stop that.”_

“Anyway,” Aspen returned to his conversation with the others. “Mipha, dear, let’s not delay. Please show me to the throne room. I’ve forgotten which of these ridiculous ramps lead up to it.”

Zelda raised her hand. “Is there anything we can do?

The way Aspen’s head moved was reminiscent of the creature below when it had noticed their presence. He watched Zelda carefully as well- perhaps musing over what he would deem her role to be.

Link had a feeling the man was eyeing the bruises scattered across her features. “Nothing until the morning.”

 _‘Go rest,’_ was his unspoken demand. She didn’t hesitate to take him up on that offer.

“Thank you for your lessons, Mipha,” Zelda sighed, “Now, if you’ll excuse me, my heart longs for dry clothes and a warm bed and I intend to follow it.”

“Goodnight, princess,” The Zora said her farewell, sounding apologetic. Zelda dipped her head to Link and Aspen, and then retreated eagerly to the peace and quiet promised by her room.

The Hylian girl wasn’t the only one sent away. Mipha looked at him when he didn’t follow after, her hand grazing his shoulder in a gentle manner. “You should sleep, too. I can tell you’re just as tired as she is.”

A part of him wanted to marvel at all the activity still going on around him, but his friend’s words rang true; he didn’t realize his own exhaustion until she’d pointed it out.

“Don’t stay up too late,” he instructed her in jest. There was little chance she’d do as he said; she’d overwork herself for sure, and the mischievous grin that girl bore told him she was already aware of that. It prompted him to warn her further, “Or I’ll tell Muzu on you.”

“The day you two band against me shall be the day the Calamity appears, I swear it.” She pushed Link, giggling at her own joke. “Now, do as I said, you stubborn imp.”

Aspen waved, and that was the end of his long day.

At least, that’s what he’d thought, but it turned out his mind had other plans besides sleep yet again. He would lay awake for hours, staring at the ceiling above and wishing he had access to whatever had sent Zelda into a coma on Death Mountain.

The day had been long- too long, he thought again. What was there to sort through, first?

Picking apart the conversation he’d had with her seemed impossible. A worrywart, she’d called him, and Link knew she’d been right. There was a regret that had infested his mind: a regret that he hadn’t reached out to her more- prodded more answers from her.

She’d asked if he had any further questions. And, like a fool, he’d said no.

Any other day, Link would be outside running laps across the Domain admiring the liveliness and magic of it all. But he’d felt too much like the tide that old being was drawing along with it: his thoughts swirling around his head.

He was dizzy. Drunken.

During the deepest throes of that night, a noise disturbed the silence of his room; it was a knock on his door. Instead of two raps, it was three- hesitant and soft, and he had little desire to answer it. Sighing, Link ran a hand over his face, threw a proper shirt on, and trudged over to the door. 

Did Impa have the wherewithal to finally knock? Was it a guard dragging him out for some monster prowling the cliffs?

It wasn’t either.

“...Zelda,” he whispered, at a loss, “what are you doing here?”

She stood, her head bent in what appeared to be nervousness as she gripped the ends of her loose shirt. Her gaze was downcast, hair obscuring her expression. The girl avoided giving a proper answer.

“I’m sorry… did I wake you?”

“No.”

There was a beat of quiet before she swallowed and looked up at him. 

“May I ask a favor?”

 _That depends,_ he thought, but didn’t speak. 

The city was quiet as she was, now. Dorephan had succeeded in calming the populace, and there was nothing but the howling gales and hollowed windchimes to fill the empty streets.

“...I- can you distract me? It’s embarrassing, but I keep having nightmares, and... they’ve been getting worse all night.” She looked away again, biting her lip. “It’s perfectly fine if you need to sleep- I’ll just take a walk, or sneak into the library, or… something.”

As expected, she talked herself out of her own request. “In fact, this was rude of me. Please, forget I asked. I’ll see you-”

“Just come in,” Link interrupted, weak to her requests as always. It was risky, he knew, but he craved her company more than he craved the safety of his solitude.

It almost seemed like she didn’t believe what she’d heard. Zelda stood on the threshold of his dwelling, her toes curling against that line as if she were a vampire questioning her own entry. Wind blew at her back, carrying the pale fabric around her shoulders into his room.

Like the push and pull of the tide, she allowed it to guide her past him and into that darkened space.

“What were you dreaming about?” He asked as the door creaked shut. By the time he turned, she was sitting on the floor against the side of his bed with her legs tucked against her chest. She wouldn’t speak, and so he did what he didn’t do in Ruto Mountains: he prodded.

“You said they were nightmares?”

Zelda nodded, hands idly grazing her bare feet. When Link sat next to her, she gave a vague description, “It was about drowning.”

He found that a little amusing. “Even though we taught you to swim?”

She did, too, for a second. “It wasn’t _me_... It was everyone else,” her head fell back against the mattress. “It was someone different every time I fell asleep, and when it got to you- well, I simply... came here.”

“I’m sorry,” he didn’t know what else to say. “We shouldn’t have forced you into the water today.”

“It’s not your fault. I tended to have those dreams before.”

“Why do you think?”

“I don’t know,” she admitted. Then, her head rolled towards him. “Do you mind if I ask what it is you dream about?”

He’d almost forgotten she knew.

Oddly enough, he didn’t mind elaborating despite them being such childish nightmares. “Usually just darkness and eyes.”

“Watching you?”

“Yes.”

“I’m sorry.” It appeared she didn’t know what to say, either.

A shrug. “They’re old. At this point it’s just annoying.”

Zelda deliberated over that, and proposed an unexpected question, “Are my eyes there, too?”

There was a point which he thought they were, but looking at them now- they were too soft a color, too doleful.

“...No.”

Zelda hummed; it sounded like she was content with that answer. Her hands were moving, braiding a strand of hair as she considered what the next topic of their conversation would be.

“I’m a little regretful.”

“Of what?”

“For cutting our conversation short earlier today. I admit I was feeling awkward, and ran off even though I wanted to catch up properly.”

She’d felt the same, had she? Despite that statement, Zelda’s words trailed off into nothing- the same way she stared at the candlelight flickering on the nightstand; and Link waited patiently for words that never came.

Eventually, he took it upon himself to decide their next topic.

“Can I ask you something?” He murmured, addressing his worries for once in his life.

It was surprising. That much was clear when she looked at him: visibly emerging from her thoughts. “Of course.”

“When we were attacked by those monsters on Death Mountain, what did you say?”

“What I said…?” Memory sparked, and Zelda averted her gaze- a motion that was always coupled with shame in her. Her lips rolled together. Reluctant. She answered nonetheless, “I don’t remember exactly what it was… but seeing what you left in your wake had me wondering if… if you were the result of the Goddess trying Her own hand at creating a monster.”

Link turned his head so that she couldn’t see the way his mouth twisted. “Does it bother you that much?” He laughed, rueful and trying to pretend it didn't sting.

Violence came so easily to him.

Did it scare her?

She knew what he was thinking, and blurted, “No, Link, that’s not what I meant.” Zelda sat straight as her hand covered his own on the floor. “You have a good heart- I’m grateful for you, truly, and I know I’m not the only person to feel that way.”

There it was again, a toothy smile. Her tenor was playful- light, and maybe endearing as she went on, “I constantly worry _for_ you, rather than fear you. I’m certain one day you’ll do something too reckless for the Goddess’ favor to save you, after all.”

Not a hint of deception was present.

It was a relief. Maybe he should have thanked her for helping to stitch that wound closed- even if only a bit, but something else came to mind when her grip on his hand tightened.

The night always changed him.

Link had told himself not to entertain stupid thoughts, but his rational self never seemed to take into account that he was weak and impulsive to a fault. What if he voiced the words in his head? What kind of expression would she make? After a month, did he still have the same effect on her as he did before?

She certainly had the same effect on him.

“Those letters weren’t enough.”

Those words slipped out.

The candlelight showed a little more brightly in her eyes when they widened, lashes fluttering. Her voice lowered into something faint, breathless, “...Did you miss me?”

“Yes,” that admittance made him feel as though he’d tripped off that cliff again, clinging to Zelda’s arm, “I did.”

There was a question he wouldn’t dare ask, but she answered all the same.

“...I did, too. Those halls were lonely without you..." Green eyes flitted every which way. Nervous. Perfectly shy. He relished in it. "I... sent you away knowing it was necessary, but a part of me resented that decision.”

Was there a limit to what they’d admit to that night? His moral sense told him there should be.

“I’m glad that we’re able to stay friends even through letters, at least.”

Yet, it was the same each time, wasn’t it? Whenever the sun set, propriety’s grip on them would always loosen- tired after holding back all their careless impulsions throughout the day.

As a result, the night changed Zelda, too.

Something stony passed over her before her gaze became sharper. He’d seen that look plenty of times before, and it was something that made him wary. He’d seen it at the Wetland Stables, the Breach of Demise, and on the hill leading down from Death Mountain’s hot springs- the girl staring up at him, questioning his dedication to the sword on his back. Now it lay discarded on the floor along with all his duties to his station and all the oaths he took to never once step out of line. _‘Before it’s too late,’_ Balder had warned. Link’s reply to that statement was still relevant; a terrible habit he’d had since childhood was biting off more than he could chew and choking on the consequences.

The princess’ eyes flicked to that blade as well. Thinking, considering, and evaluating its meaning. Her eyes were lidded with a passing thought that might have been devious.

That version of her which only came out under the cover of darkness was one that he found the most alluring, yet frightening. Zelda was somehow naive and a shrewd judge of character at the same time; and it made her unpredictable. Dangerous.

However, he’d be lying if he said that didn’t excite him to some degree.

“...I told you that you worried too much,” Zelda finally remarked, “but there was something else I forgot to say.”

It was at that moment that she moved onto her knees, leaning towards him. Link wouldn't even blink. A deer in torchlight.

 _Move away, move away,_ he told himself. _Don't be stupid. Don't forget your station._

The warnings in his own head fell on deaf ears; he simply wouldn't- _didn't_ want to listen, and the shameless rush he felt when her lips pressed against his cheek erased any common sense he might have had left. And, it quickly became apparent there was nothing he could focus on that could salvage it, either. Not the warmth or softness of that touch. Not her hand cradling his jaw. Not their fingers still intertwined on the floor, tangling like thread- not the pulse drumming away in his ears: an erratic heartbeat he was sure she could feel against her own chest.

He could feel her own, after all, with nothing but thin fabric between them.

Zelda lingered there far too long for that to be considered a chaste kiss- for it to be considered anything innocent.

Her breath was a wisp, a warm sigh in his ear as her nails trailed down his neck.

_“Thank you.”_

His breathing hitched. Something twisted, turning to knots inside him.

When she pulled away just far enough for her to see his face, the tension beneath his lungs was nearly unbearable. He couldn’t read her expression. Link could only fixate on the strands of hair that framed her face- the dim light that haloed her silhouette. It was as distracting as the red flush of her cheeks, parted lips, and the low, low bend of her collar.

“Zelda,” he whispered, his voice thick- desperate as he asked for the second time that night, “what are you doing here?”

Her head titled into his palm; he hadn’t even realized that his hand had crept up to drift across her neck and into her hair. 

“Trying to understand you better. That’s all.” She smiled. “I told you at the Wetlands, didn’t I? All the outrageous things I must do to get a good look at you.”

Link floundered to hide just how flustered that left him, but was certain he failed miserably at it. Yet- what point was there in trying to hide anything anymore? None. There it'd gone, hadn't it? His one and only advantage in any of this. A nail in the coffin and he'd given her the hammer like a complete idiot. Without question, that girl could guess his feelings based on his reaction alone. His flirting. His utter lack of protest. His hand where it was now, poised as if he wanted to pull her back toward him. All of this practically a screaming confession, yet, strangely, she once again made no effort to address what she'd found.

“I’m sorry for disturbing you,” the girl apologized as she stood- her meaning layered, “and thank you again. For talking with me. Your presence calmed me after those nightmares.”

Link could only sit there and gawp at her when she ambled past him like all she'd done was walk in and ask if he'd had spare pens or pillows or lantern oil she could borrow for the night. His hand was still raised when cold swept in, and it stayed there right until the door clicked shut behind Zelda. It thudded against the floor. He exhaled loudly, gasping for air. It’d felt like she’d been holding him underwater.

 _Hylia,_ he thought, what had she done to him?

A moment more, and he was certain he would have done something he’d fail to regret. Greedy is what he was, because he was left with nothing but disappointment she hadn’t stayed longer. 

  


* * *

  


Impa was staring down at him the next morning. His door was flung open, the woman having kicked it open in yet another fantastic display of incivility. Of course, she was left utterly confused upon seeing Link still sitting on the floor: arms and legs crossed as he stared menacingly at the ugly painting of a seagull hanging on the wall.

“...Did you get any sleep?”

_“No.”_

“Why?”

“None of your business,” he snarled. 

That only served to make Impa’s lip curl. “Watch your _tone_ boy, or I’ll turn you into fish bait.”

(In other words, Impa had every intention to throw him over the railing and feed him to the monster lurking below. She might even attach a string to him. It was fair, Link assumed. He probably wasn’t worth all the trouble he caused.)

“Regardless, I don’t care,” pinching the bridge of her nose, she informed him of his task for that day. “Get dressed. We have pilgrims to escort.”

Eager for any opportunity to distract himself, Link snatched his sword up before Impa even left the room.

All the royalty present in Zora’s Domain would be busy with the particulars of the coming ceremony. They had a mere day left to prepare, according to the records left by scribes from a millennia ago.

(It was early, yet the city was a flurry of color and music. They celebrated as ardently as they had over ten years ago: when Hylians and Zora banded together to repair a disastrous break in their dams. They spent years rebuilding what was lost, cementing the bond between the two peoples yet again, and ensuring at least another one hundred years of peace. Link caught petals thrown from the railings above. They swirled in the water, and Impa had to drag him along when he stopped to stare.)

Pilgrims from the clergy and Southern temples were migrating to Zora’s Domain. They were even farther than Inogo Bridge, and supposedly, they’d departed the same day as Aspen. How that Zora arrived at the Domain so quickly was yet another mystery even Impa couldn’t explain.

Their need for escorts became clear when they’d found them near Ralis Pond: fleeing from a resident Hinox. It was annoying; the creature was already covering its eye after being shot at by Hylians with arrows.

Admittedly, Link wasn’t sure how he expected Impa to use her weapons. He’d always assumed it was partly for show: carrying around five of those things on her waist. As such, he certainly didn’t see it coming when the woman flung four of her blades into the monster, used them as a ladder to climb to the Hinox’s head, and stabbed it in the eye.

She leapt off with no trouble, rolling deftly across the grass and to her feet as it slammed into the ground.

Really, Link should have known he was half Sheikah a long time ago. The way he moved during a fight resembled them all too well: low to the ground with sharp, blurred movements and a rather eccentric way of using weapons.

Those pilgrims were practically bowing to their savior. Impa was impatient, however, and was quick to have them all shuffling along Luto’s Crossing like a line of prisoners. Link wasn’t sure what the point of him being there was until the woman fell back to meet him at the end of their precession.

“Do you still have questions?” She inquired, arms crossed yet again.

Link shrugged. His eyes scanned the mountainsides. “Nothing specific. I was never told anything about her, is all… What was she like, maybe?”

Impa mulled over it: a finger at her lower lip. An idea popped in her head, and she exaggeratedly tapped a fist into her palm.

“Do you remember what you said to your father in the hallway before the ceremony? You described Master Revali as a nitwit with King Rhoam’s scepter shoved so far up his ass you were surprised he wasn’t choking on it, correct?”

He almost started to sweat. “...You heard that.”

“Among six other servants, yes.”

Hylia, this was why he resigned himself to shutting his mouth.

“What’s your point?”

Impa leaned over him- appearing exasperated at some sort of memory. “Imagine a woman with a mouth as vulgar as that, but a face the Goddess Herself would be jealous of." She mockingly pinched his cheek, and he swatted her hand away. “She had eyes just as _pretty_ as you.”

One of the pilgrims looked confused by that particular interaction.

Graciously, she returned the hostage that was his personal space. 

“You said you were her replacement?” Link moved on to a new question. It didn’t make much sense- while he had no idea how old Impa was, he doubted she could be a day over thirty.

The woman yawned at the sun. It was still rising; mist was pouring over the cliff sides. Of course, the dark clouds rolling towards them indicated they were in for another thunderstorm by the time the morning was finished.

“I was… perhaps ten years old when she passed? I was her apprentice for only two years, and a temporary proxy acted in our stead before I became of age.” Impa chuckled, sardonic; and for a moment he thought she’d been possessed by Purah. “You know, she poured some sort of drink over your father’s head, and when she saw him standing by King Rhoam the morning after, the look of horror on her face was one I will never forget.”

Her teeth were almost as sharp as Sidon’s when she grinned. “Every time we made a trip to the castle she was so embarrassed she’d sneak around in the shadows praying he wouldn’t notice her! Of course, he made a habit of throwing pens or wads of paper at all the nooks she was hiding in just to make fun of her.”

There was a nostalgic breath that escaped her lips. She seemed forlorn, her folded arms growing stiff.

“It was cliche, really.” Impa’s braid swayed when she pivoted to look at him. “They were young and foolish. I believe they were twenty-four at most when you came around.”

It was cliche in many ways, he was starting to understand. Cliche in its beginning and end.

Link felt it again- that pesky surge of guilt. He glared at the dirt passing beneath his feet. “...It sounds like they were happy.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Impa’s head tilted. A quick glance told him she was frowning. Her eyebrows pulled together.

“...Don’t be foolish, now,” she tried to soothe his conscience- a tenor he'd never imagined she'd address him with. “Or your mother may rise from her grave just to smack you on the head.”

A grave. He hadn’t a clue where it was, and his reaction to that statement prompted Impa to answer him without a word passing his lips. 

“She rests in Kakariko Village- our hometown.”

With that, she strode ahead, leaving him to sort his own thoughts.

It was a century later that he would marvel at his ignorance. How many days had he spent helping Paya tend to those graves? His fingers could have brushed the pale stone that belonged to his mother, and he was none the wiser.

Both then and in his next life, he resolved to visit.

By the time they’d returned to Zora’s Domain with their gaggle of pilgrims, the winds had grown torrential- unpredictable and harsh. Rain and lightning flickering on the horizon were slower to encroach, however.

They’d stepped through the arches just in time to see Aspen skip across the courtyard. At a glance, he seemed happy to see his fellow priests and priestesses- but immediately began yelling about their tardiness.

Impa wiggled her fingers goodbye, leaving him to his own devices without any assignment. He wasn’t sure how to occupy himself. Should he find Mipha? Or Zelda?

The mere thought of Zelda made his face turn red. It was probably best to avoid any prolonged interaction with that girl. As it stood, being left alone with her would be disastrous; if she touched him like that again, he was absolutely certain his hands would wind up where they didn’t belong.

“The girls are in the library studying for me,” Aspen supplied, once again reading Link’s mind. He was immediately terrified of what else that man knew was rattling around in his head.

Aspen’s underlings were fluttering off to their respective duties. He sent an uncomfortable look at that Zora through their passing frames, and although the top half of Aspen’s face wasn’t visible, the way his mouth moved indicated he was scheming.

The light glower on Link’s face was far from an invitation. The man approached and began to slink around him, anyway- inspecting him.

“I take it you’re the boy she ignored my riveting sermons for?” Aspen clucked his tongue as if he wasn’t a fan of what he saw.

“That's offensive,” Link retorted- also reading that Zora’s mind.

Two could play at this game.

He tittered, impressed.

“I’m not as impressed with your writing skills.” He had to flinch away from the lantern that was waved in his face.

It was at that point that Link actually stamped his foot. “How are you doing that?!”

“It runs in the family. Powerful intuition, nothing more.” The Zora reached out and patted Link’s shoulder with a palliative insistence, “While I haven’t a clue what has transpired between you two, I know for a fact that you will be far too bored waiting until the ceremony begins. So why don’t you skip the brooding, cut to the chase, and go help those darling girls comb through the records, yes? I need something found by noon and the more eyes I have on those papers, the better.”

The expression on Link’s face was the same as when he pulled Zelda out from a log and watched a beetle crawl across her nose.

The moment he realized that Zora was correct in the exact chain of events that would come to pass, Aspen began to shoo him off in the direction of the library. He was a snake, he was certain.

“That’s offensive!” The priest called, and Link practically began to sprint away from him.

The first thing he noticed when he descended into the library was that Sidon was asleep: wrapped up in paper as if it was a fleece blanket. Zelda was sitting cross legged next to Mipha. Their interactions were whispers- fast and explicating by the tenor of it.

“Oh,” Mipha was the first to see him. “Good morning!”

He didn’t miss the way Zelda’s hands nearly crumbled her scrolls into a wad of paper. “Good morning!” She repeated the other princess’ greeting with a strained smile.

Did she have the gall to be embarrassed for crawling on top of him?

“I’ve been sent to help,” Link explained, scratching the back of his head as he approached.

In a wise decision, he chose to sit next to Mipha. The Zora promptly handed him a scroll to unfurl. “Thank you. We must find information on the amount of stones we need for the ceremony to work- Aspen fears a delayed shipment may cause some issues.”

He squinted. It was gibberish. The language was beyond archaic- a style he couldn’t have even begun to recognize. “...I can’t read this.”

“Neither can I,” Mipha confessed timidly.

Zelda lifted her head and cooly turned a paper to face him, pointing at a particular set of words. “Here is the name of the priestess responsible for last festival’s records. Look for letters of this shape, and I shall do the rest.” 

Was she fluent in this? It was of Sheikah origin- it wouldn’t have surprised him if she studied it under Purah or Impa.

As it turned out, they had more than enough according to the Hylian princess- their land would provide whatever they couldn’t. He’d wanted to ask what it was those luminous stones were necessary for, but Zelda had already run up the stairs to find Aspen. They creaked under her footfalls: bits of dust drifting onto the floor.

There was the sound of scraping paper as Mipha rolled up their scrolls and went about picking up after the mess they’d made. With an empty mind, he let his hands run across the aged ink one more time before joining her without a word.

When Loren stumbled across him, Link was soon enlisted in hauling around crates of those stones among other physical labor. He was thankful for it; it allowed the day to pass far quicker than the previous.

The storm never came.

It was something Link realized when their preparations were finally complete. The entirety of Zora’s Domain had become the eye of a storm; both the sky and the water beneath them a funnel.

Was that creature below responsible for all their strange weather?

The thought was unsettling, but the possibility interested him- the idea that there were beings capable of bending the laws of nature as they pleased. It made the world around him seem less dull, less lackluster. Aspen probably would have been able to confirm whether or not his suspicions were true, but Link was more inclined to leave it as it was.

He preferred the fantasy.

Night fell once again, and it was with the sound of drums that the ceremony began.

Not knowing what to do, Link searched for familiar faces. The first he encountered were Mipha and Zelda: standing at the lowest reaches of the city as they spoke with Aspen. He was pointing to a set of rocks in the midst of the lake.

Two of them. Flat and round- just big enough for each girl to stand on.

“Here to see us off?” Again, Mipha was the first to notice him.

He nodded, and when his eyes met Zelda’s, she merely waved awkwardly.

The water below went quiet. It had gone still alongside their visitor. Aspen informed them it was an invitation encouraging them to descend.

“Are you sure this is safe?” Link had stopped Mipha by her arm, a little bit of his worry getting the better of him.

She’d smiled at his concern as she placed a hand on his. “They are peaceful creatures... It didn’t attack you when you fell, correct? I think you merely startled each other.”

Mipha referenced their records as well, standing firm on the belief that there was no danger as long as one did not intrude in their waters during the ceremony. The Zora had far too much faith in old records, he thought. But he trusted his friend’s judgement more than most.

When he glanced over, Zelda was taking deep breaths: psyching herself up for the event. She looked too nervous- fretting. The girl must have had the same doubts he did about the safety of that whole venture.

Link walked up and put a hand on her shoulder. He leaned in, saying, “Magic fish, right?”

“Y-Yes, magic fish.” Zelda echoed, somewhat bewildered.

“That’s cool. You’ll get to see them up close. You think they might be related to leviathans?”

Her eyes lit up. “Oh, you might be right! They could be a smaller subspecies.” She started to mutter to herself, “In fact, I should check their head to body ratio. If they’re similar it could give credence to that theory.”

“Good, come back with a report. I want to hear about it.”

She nodded vigorously, her fear overshadowed by keen interest. Satisfied with his work, Link stepped back and saluted Mipha. She laughed with a wave.

Zelda would take a rope down from their platform, and Mipha would be there to carry her over to their rocks.

Backing away to the edge, Mipha snatched up a rock and jumped.

Watching her flip in the air as she dove off was always a sight to behold; she would catch light with the motion: her adornments flickering as she plummeted into the darkness below. Zelda was quick as well, grasping the pulley and leaping off after her Zora counterpart with little hesitation.

Upon seeing the colossal animal below remain docile as they passed, Aspen spoke over Link’s shoulder. 

“Come, let us get a better view, Hero.”

By the time Zelda and Mipha had reached their destination, they’d taken residence on one of the highest platforms within the Domain. It was without railings: allowing an unobstructed view of the Eastern half of that lake. Those two girls were barely visible- lingering just on the edge of the light provided by Zora’s Domain.

The rest of the city was now huddled at the very edge as well. He spied Impa standing near the king within the courtyard, her gaze alert even from such a distance. It was charming: seeing the Sheikah woman cradle a sleepy Zora prince in her arms.

Link raised a hand to keep his hair out of his face. The drums had finally gone silent while the wind only grew stronger along with the roiling clouds on the horizon. Chatter in the city had become nothing more than a hushed murmur. 

The silence was overwhelming. 

There was a tension in the air- something expectant among the hundreds of citizens below that left even him unwilling to tear his eyes from the lake.

It was only a minute of quiet before that creature suddenly delved even deeper into the water, vanishing from sight completely. Soon enough, ten silhouettes were swirling into view. Most of them gravitated around the Domain, waves crashing against cliff sides and smooth marble yet again. Zelda’s gaze was following them- unsure of which creature to focus on.

Their light was weak: flickering like a candle against a breeze.

Mipha remained still, however- waiting stoically for something.

A significantly larger creature swam near their rocks. It circled them only once before coming to a halt before the Zora princess, water bending and flowing off its colossal form as it rose from the depths. The creature’s neck was long, allowing it to bring down its head with ease as the girl reached up, brushing her hand across its snout. She was barely the size of even one of its eyes.

It was a formal greeting; it was an introduction. Mipha bowed deeply to that old numen, offering up the stone in her hands- perhaps speaking to it.

Zelda was motionless at that point, gaping with wide eyes no doubt.

Gasps erupted over the crowd as the lights in the city dimmed. Their luminous stones were fading. Darkness swept over Zora’s Domain in its entirety, and the only conclusion Link could come to was that those odd creatures had stolen it along with that subdued light in Mipha’s palms. They became fully luminescent themselves, after all: their bodies turning a blinding green.

Seven more silhouettes beneath the water were suddenly clear as day before all of them breached, turning their noses to the sky.

One, however, was still moving.

It was the same creature that hovered over Mipha, slithering just a little farther to the girl’s left. There was a sound it made: a low trill as it came to loom over Zelda. She remained stationary. Her neck was craned up to stare at the fish inspecting her. 

Link’s anxiety returned in full force when it began to lower its head again. This time, however, it dipped notably father than it had before Mipha.

He squinted. Zelda’s mouth was moving as she also reached out, slowly, and grazed her fingers across the top of its head. The Zora princess perked up, watching intently.

Aspen hummed with perplexity.

Was this not part of the plan?

Seemingly pleased by the gesture, Zelda’s strange new friend twisted and dove back into the water moments later. The rest did the same, no doubt preparing to return to their tunnels.

Link sighed with a bit of relief and stood from his squatting position. The Zora were clapping, cheering as the ceremony reached its completion while Mipha and Zelda exchanged a triumphant look- most likely smiling to each other.

“We are quite lucky to have seen that,” Aspen said behind him.

He nodded, still watching the old creatures swim in circles. “They took something from the stones?”

“...Yes indeed. They return to sate their appetite.” When Link’s attention fell on Aspen’s face, his leer made him seem far too much like a Lizalfos. “Some have even claimed it is the key to their immortality… and that it is where we Zora inherited our long lasting youth from.”

“Is it permanent?”

“If Princess Zelda is correct, the Earth will return what they took.”

She would be correct in that. As soon as those animals departed, many of the luminous stones began to flicker back to life. The storms would clear: the nighttime sky in full view yet again, and the festivities would begin in earnest.

Another speech was made by King Dorephan with the two princesses at his side. Link was never one to pay attention to formalities like that; he was busy sitting across the Domain arguing with Loren over the amount of lines necessary for a proper phalanx. 

There was a point at which Zelda passed, waving happily at him from the midst of her Sheikah scribes. 

“I think it’s the same ratio!” She yelled, hands cupped around her mouth.

After that, he didn’t see Zelda or Mipha for the rest of the night. They seemed engrossed in whatever interview was being conducted by Impa’s troop, and Link was too engrossed in acting as the referee for a spear throwing competition.

(It went without saying he wasn’t allowed to participate beyond that. One throw from him resulted in a unanimous agreement that his presence would be unfair. He was hardly offended by that; it was entertaining enough watching a bunch of Zora fresh out of training try to hit the bullseye of a target.)

The last thing he remembered was playing poker for the final plates of truffles and prime steak. He’d won four times in a row before a drunken Gerudo woman showed up and ruined his winning streak.

Thus, before Link knew it, he was opening his eyes to a rising sun. Several of the Zora and Hylians around him were grumbling at the light as well, and when he lifted his head off of a dining table, the cards plastered against his face fluttered to the ground.

He squinted. 

The city was a mess. Tables were flipped. The main courtyard was probably even worse. He never would have imagined the Zora were capable of throwing such a ridiculous party, but perhaps he wouldn’t’ve been so surprised if he’d taken King Dorephan seriously. There was a good chance the king demanded at least one entire scroll be dedicated to their festivities, and Link was beginning to wonder just how long the Zoras’ strange competition had been going on.

He’d bet his money on three millennia at least.

When he moved to stand, there was a voice behind him.

“Hello!”

Link tripped over the bench- narrowly managing to retain his balance. Upon seeing a familiar pair of yellow eyes, he let out a ragged breath. “Mipha…”

“Too early?” she quipped.

Raking a hand over his face was answer enough. Several of his fellow soldiers stumbled to their feet: dragging themselves either to a warm bed or to an early shift.

Mipha pointed to the barracks. “Is there any particular reason there’s thirty spears embedded in those doors?”

“...I wouldn’t know.”

“Oh, I’m sure you wouldn’t,” she laughed darkly inbetween her words. “You’re a beacon of sensibility.”

It was suddenly very chilly. Link scratched the back of his head with a muttered apology, “We… got carried away.”

“I can see that.” the end of her spear tapped against marble. She raised her voice, addressing both Link and the table of hungover guards. “Shake away that drowsiness of yours and clean up after yourselves! We have much to do once you are finished!”

Mipha took another glance at Link and said, “You, however, should wash all that chocolate off first.”

_“Huh?”_

  


* * *

  


“...Are you quite alright?”

“I’m fine.”

“You certainly don’t look that way.”

Link teetered backwards to stare up at the tower of a Zora behind him. If the sun wasn’t covered by a wall of gray, he was certain Sidon would be blocking it out.

When the Hylian at his feet didn’t answer, Sidon reluctantly stated his business. “Muzu has requested I remove you from the courtyard. You are... intimidating the children.”

With that, the Zora pointed to the huddled group of kids peering at them from behind a stairway.

For nearly an hour, Link had been staring up at Mipha’s statue, glaring at it viciously enough that Muzu was probably scared he’d try to tear it down. His gaze slid over to the tutor on the balcony above. He was too intimidated to come remove Link himself, was he? He sent a ten foot prince instead?

He bared his teeth at Muzu. The gesture was returned in kind before that manta ray stalked off- perhaps to complain to his king.

Sidon shook his head disapprovingly at that exchange. He didn’t leave. The prince was empathetic to a near motherly degree, and there was little chance he would leave him alone.

“Tell Muzu I’m busy arguing with your sister,” Link explained.

He actually took that seriously. “What? Is her ghost here?”

“No,” he laughed. “We had a disagreement a long time ago. I’m just thinking about it.”

The Zora made a thoughtful noise and sat down next to Link. He was so tall that he may as well have kept standing.

“What is it you disagreed over, if I may ask?”

He glanced at his own sullen face in the water. It rippled, distorting his features and only making his frown look worse. Though, it was better than spending another moment looking up at that girl’s benevolent smile.

“She did something I thought was cruel.”

The prince’s mouth opened slightly. It was disbelieving. “Cruel?” He echoed. 

No doubt that was a term he’d never heard occupy the same sentence as Mipha. Briefly, it appeared he was going to argue that it was impossible, but his curiosity kept him mute. It would be surprising to Link if anyone had actually made mention of the girl’s flaws to her sibling, after all. What was it like? Hearing of pigs flying- a unicorn trotting through the town square?

“It was a moral argument,” he clarified. “She was… correct in what she believed, but the way she went about it seemed wrong to me.”

His breath fogged, and the chill of Zora’s Domain reminded him of the way Mipha had looked at him. She said she was disillusioned by him. Oaths, she yelled. Sacrifices. Link hadn’t wanted to hear any of it.

“Mipha was... as strict as she was kind. She was proud of it, but all it did was kill her in the end.” He looked at Sidon, bitter. “She’d never ask for help when she needed it most. But you do, and if I’m being honest, I’m glad you don’t resemble her in that way. There’s _nothing_ good about becoming a martyr.”

Whether Sidon was offended or hurt by that, he didn’t know. Regardless, it was the truth.

“But you already know that, don’t you?”

If the hatred most of the Zora felt for Link was anything to go by, they certainly knew.

Rain fell. It splattered across the statue before them: dripping and slithering down that spear of hers. It hurt, seeing her image encased in stone. It was nothing but a desperate attempt by the people who loved her to feel as if she still remained- brightening up their city.

But she was dead: her body lost and decayed in the pit of a Beast’s stomach. Link had no doubt King Dorephan anguished over the blessing he gave that allowed her to ascend as a Champion. The man had welcomed him back into that Domain after his slumber, but sometimes Link wondered if he blamed him as much as he did himself.

“I miss her,” Link squeezed his eyes shut, breathing deep to disguise the crack in his voice. “I wish… she had _talked_ to me, is all. About everything.”

He wished they could have made proper amends. And maybe, they did, but the one hundred years of tribulation inbetween left wounds which he was certain would never heal.

“In my only memory of her,” Sidon mused as he placed a hand on Link’s head, “she patted my head just like this when I was upset. I’m sure if she was here, she’d do the same for you, yes?”

His laugh was weak and trembling- pained. “You grew up too fast, you know that?”

But it was fine, he would tell Mipha’s ghost. Sidon did well to part the clouds. His people cherished him as much as she did, and Link was certain that he would carry out her legacy whether he was aware of it or not.

That’s what she raised him to do, after all: to give hope.

And give hope he did. 

  


* * *

  


Their merry band was scattered that day.

As he would find out, Aspen departed the night before. And, seeing Link passed out drooling on a table must have invoked some sort of mercy from Impa because the woman decided she would be the one to escort Zelda to Ruta that morning. Thus, at King Dorephan’s orders, he was sent off to participate in a small raid against monsters which had infested one of their watch towers.

Mipha- well, he wasn’t sure what she was doing.

He’d returned by the afternoon: covered in ash from a fire which had broken out during their battle. It came as a surprise to see Mipha lingering in the town square. In a twist of irony, she was standing in the exact location where her statue would be erected.

It was as he approached that she looked back with the same expression that would be etched into stone- something solemn and affectionate.

“Welcome back,” she looked him up and down. “It looks like you had quite the trip.”

“Bokoblins got a hold of a torch.”

_“..Ah."_

Water was splashed on him. He flinched away as Mipha giggled, her hand moving away from the water beneath them. “Nearly _every_ time I see you there’s something on your face!”

Link wiped the water away with his sleeve- taking the ash and soot with it.

“By the way, thank you, Link.”

He cocked his head, smiling through a little confusion. “For what?”

“All day I’ve had people telling me how helpful you’ve been.” She paused. “Well, besides the weapons merchant. He said you accosted him over a sword for quite some time.”

“It was _unbalanced.”_

“...I’m sure. Returning to my point- you’ve been kind to the people here yet again. So I am thanking you on their behalf…” her voice seemed to escape her for a moment. “...And, I hope- I hope that you don’t regret the month you spent here. I abhorred what was happening to her as much as you, but... the both of us hoped that this city could offer you some respite from your troubles.”

A part of him did regret it. But the other was thankful.

Link nodded in earnest. “I had fun. Thank you.”

Oddly enough the smile on her face looked forced. “I truly hope the good memories will outweigh the bad ones.” Straightening up, Mipha cleared her throat and pointed Northeast. “Would you like to join me in the library? I’m afraid I may need some help carrying a few books.”

Without anything else to do, Link followed.

It wasn’t the public library she led him to- but one that was off limits to those who weren’t given permission by King Dorephan and his court. They were old archives, devoid of any people. It may have been the oldest of its kind in Hyrule, really, having been maintained for thousands of years.

“Most of our records are held within the temples,” she’d remarked before they entered. “The more recent texts are in our care.”

Silence hung. Those rooms were barely lit by thin slits in the roof, and the sunlight that filtered through those windows shone pale. Dust floated listless and weightless. It seemed more like a long hallway than anything else- littered with crooked bookshelves.

Mipha began to thumb through the texts, setting a few books on the table as she went. Link merely watched with crossed arms: his back pressed against a wall.

“May I ask you something?” she said as she continued her idle work. “I’ve been... curious.”

Her eyes flicked towards him, and he shrugged- giving permission.

“How did you _actually_ come across that sword? How did you hide it?”

Recounting the worst years of his life? That seemed like a wonderful topic.

Link’s eyes bore holes into the marble floor. “...When we graduated from the academy, Rhoam led us into the forest. I was terrified when I realized I could pull it so-” he winced at his own ridiculous behavior, “-I faked that I couldn’t.”

Another book thudded onto the table.

“I got curious later that night and pulled it without realizing it couldn’t be put back. In the end, I wound up throwing such a big tantrum that The Deku Tree helped me disguise it and sent me home.”

Mipha regarded him with a distraught expression. “It was all an accident?”

“Of course,” he laughed dryly. “I was _thirteen,_ Mipha. I wanted to head back and eat some food more than I wanted to put my hands on this sword.”

“Did King Rhoam harm you?” She held a scroll in her hands, fear passing over her as she squeezed it.

He didn’t want to tell her about that sanctum.

It was already humiliating enough: his head bowed inches from the floor, his hand shaking- unable to let go of the spiked ball and chain that had torn his life into pieces.

“No. He just raged,” Link yawned as if the memory wasn’t as painful as it actually was. “He said I was another kid running from responsibility, or something.”

Rhoam was correct in that assumption; he was a boy that ran. And he certainly didn’t regret it- a fact which the king was perfectly aware of when he came forward. That choice was a vindictive one, as well, wasn’t it? Traipsing into that sanctum years later and laying the object of the king’s fervent obsessions at his feet. Link had been a thief, a child given too much power, and a traitor to his country all at once.

And he didn’t regret it one bit.

The only thing he regretted was not looking up at that man and smiling right in his face.

“He made up a cover story by noon, and had me babysat in a cell for a couple days until he called Zelda and me into the sanctum.”

How furious had Rhoam been- knowing he couldn’t declare to the whole world what Link really was: a coward and a trifling brat with an inflated sense of self importance.

However, His Majesty had his revenge whether he knew it or not. Forging Link into another gilded idol perched upon his castle’s gates had stripped him of the capability to ever be truly happy again. Whatever innocence he’d had left was ripped from his hands, and the list of things and people he loathed as a result was nearly endless.

It was all a side of him he didn’t want to have to explain to Mipha. He’d told Zelda of his anger- the pressure on him. Terry and Balder knew of his fear. And only his father knew of his hatred.

As close as they were, the idea of confessing all of it to someone as earnest and dedicated to her country as the Champion before him made Link sick.

Her last book was stacked on that table. Mipha’s hands set themselves delicately on the surface, drumming and pointed nails tapping against its leather surface.

“Goodness, I may have to agree with your earlier comment... The Goddess may not be the brightest planner out there.”

That earned a snicker from him. “It might’ve been my fault this time.”

“...Maybe so.” The light streaming above wasn’t cast on her. Instead, it was the bracelets on her wrists that flickered in the sunlight as she pointed deeper into the library. “Could you go retrieve a stack over there?”

“I wanted to ask,” Link called over his shoulder as he rounded the shelves, “why was Muzu arguing-”

The words died in his throat when his toes scuffed paper.

Notes lay scattered across the marble. When his eyes followed that snaking trail, it led him to a line of open texts, a set of fingers grazing those pages, and, ultimately, to a pair of wide eyes staring right up at him. A parted mouth.

Zelda looked empty.

Slowly, his gaze dragged itself back to Mipha standing at the end of that corridor. Her hands folded together at her chest- a pitying frown on her face.

 _“Why?”_ his voice was something to be pitied as well.

“...Because it is necessary.”

With that, she left without a single book- leaving him to traverse a waking nightmare of her own design.

Paper crumpled as Zelda’s head bent low. The pages in her book were now torn: crushed in her fist. A shaky breath raked through her before she spoke quietly, calmly, and coldly.

“...Do me a favor, Link, and _get out.”_


	16. The Great Escape

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. Not much to say here, have fun!

_“Really!?_ Maybe he’ll tell you to do it! You boot-licking Sheikah always do that bastard’s dirty work, don’t you?”

There was a crack.

Link’s head snapped to the left- pain flaring across his cheek.

His head remained turned when his eyes slid over to Impa. Her hand was still raised: hovering as if she were ready to hit him again if he spouted another irreverent curse at her. He was tempted to. In his chest was a cold anger- splintering and sharp, and while her own gaze seemed passive at a first glance, he could tell she felt the same kind of fury after those words.

“Know this,” she informed him in a hiss, “that wasn’t for His Majesty. It was for your _mother.”_

Link’s eyes flicked to the grass as he faced her again. Fingers grazed his stinging face. It hurt. Although the heat across his skin was more from shame than that slap.

“...I’m sorry.”

Impa’s stony features relaxed. “Good. Now can we discuss this calmly?”

His hand fell as he looked up at her. “Are you going to tell him?”

She breathed deep, arms folding as she scanned the fields around them. They were East, atop Polymus Mountain. The wind was strong that evening, along with the waterfalls below- the noise drowning out their heated argument.

It was a mere three hours after everything. Mipha vanished. Zelda wouldn’t come out of her library. She stayed locked away in that cramped room- guarded by Sheikah to ensure she didn’t do anything drastic.

“As it stands, it’s very possible he would go through with it if he had to,” Impa eventually uttered. “You’re not his daughter after all. But knowing your mother… I wouldn’t want to put you through that punishment. I owe her that much.”

“But... I broke the oath.”

What was he saying? Was he trying to tell her he should have his tongue burned?

Impa looked to the city below, peering over the edge of that mountain.

“No. It was that fool of a girl that broke it.”

He frowned. Somewhere beneath his anger, worry bubbled up. “Are you saying she should be hurt instead?”

Birds chirped. The sound was sharp: a pitch that was grating in his ears. He was starting to understand why that Lynel sat there snarling at them weeks ago.

The woman shook her head and closed her eyes. “She was aware that it was our king’s order. If it gets out that she was the one who ignored that decree there could be real consequences- she would be stripped of her title as a Champion, I’m sure.”

Rhoam wouldn’t stand idly by. Especially when Mipha herself had already taken a Champion’s oath to serve that man and Hylia’s congregation; even without being sworn to silence, it would have been expected of her not to interfere.

Not to mention, if either the clergy or Sheikah priestesses ever caught wind of the fact that Hylia’s Champion committed a form of sacrilege and impiety for over two years, the entire castle would go up in flames. Maybe even Rhoam’s red velvets would catch fire.

Thus, in the end, it was bigger than Zelda’s feelings, and loose lips couldn’t be tolerated.

Really, what had he _done?_

“It shouldn’t come to that. There is still plenty of hope for this to be controlled, as I doubt she had any other motive besides letting our princess know the truth.” He felt a little thankful for her leniency. The woman was still soft despite what Purah would claim. “Is Mipha the only one who knows?”

“...No.”

As unflappable as she was, Impa began to scowl. 

Link sighed. “There’s three more who figured it out on their own. Revali and two other knights... but they’re not like Mipha. All of them promised not to tell anyone.”

“I don’t care. They’ll need to take proper oaths,” a hand was on her hip. “We cannot take any risks.”

The sun was a glare at Impa’s side. Her eyes looked like torchlight- a thousand little plans brewing in her head at once.

“...I will speak to Mipha’s father and inform him that she must be controlled from this point forth.”

He nodded. Link assumed their conversation was over, yet Impa spoke again before he could even turn on his heel. Her tone sent a wave of terror through him; it was identical to the one she possessed when she stood outside his home years ago, instilling paranoia and dread in him all at once.

“Now, would you care to explain why one of my fellow Sheikah caught sight of Her Highness entering your room the other night?”

Link’s face went blank. Calm, glassy, and empty. It was that same skill he acquired during his ascent as a Champion, and it was a card he kept tucked in his pocket for Impa and Impa alone.

“Nightmares. I indulged Her Highness in some conversation to distract her.”

It was the truth.

A finger tapped against her arm. Impa stared down her nose at him, eyes narrowed into slits.

His lip curled. Link pretended to be offended- and perhaps a little disgusted by the suggestion buried beneath her silence. Too much apathy would be suspicious, after all. 

“It was what, five minutes? Go ahead and ask your scout if you don’t believe me. Besides, His Majesty is already three seconds from having me strung up in the square. The _last_ thing I want is to give him an extra excuse for that, Impa!”

Purah had warned him on Death Mountain. Letting Zelda into his room was a stupid move- and letting that girl put her hands on him was another stupid move, but he at least had the common sense to be prepared for an interrogation like this.

She scoffed at that, amused, but her mirth quickly faded as she proposed another question, “That’s true, isn’t it? Although, I’m _intrigued_ as to why something so innocent was enough to rob you of an entire night of sleep.”

Link gestured in an exasperated manner. “I have trouble sleeping because of my own nightmares... And I’d appreciate it if you didn't tell anyone. It’s embarrassing.” The woman didn’t have any counter to that, so he continued, “I know. I won’t do it again. I knew what it was like, so my sympathy got the better of me.”

No reply again.

_“Anything else?”_

“Hmmm…” she thought it over, a finger at her chin. “Nothing for now.”

That dulcet tone. As usual, he hadn’t fooled her at all. Link knew that. All he'd succeeded in was buying himself time by way of reasonable doubt.

For the moment, there were more important things to do.

The woman didn’t wave. Impa left in the blink of an eye- off to dutifully calm the waters. He had to admit that it was a relief having her around, yet it left him conflicted. He trusted her to help maintain what order in the chaos that he couldn’t, but it came at the price of that woman having far more knowledge of his habits and flaws than he liked.

She was a danger and a safety net at the same time.

Trying to calm his nerves, Link took his sword and its scabbard off his back, running his fingers over the ash and soot that still clung to it from that burning tower.

“Come out already, Mipha.”

It was the sound of jewelry that betrayed her presence; they were easily mistaken for the wind chimes that littered Zora’s Domain, but he’d heard it too many times to be fooled. As such, Link didn’t even have to see her to know she’d been lingering behind one of the boulders, waiting for their conversation to end.

He looked at her as she stepped out, anger once again spiking across his chest. Despite how badly he wanted to start yelling, he remained quiet- patient.

A year ago, he doubted he would have had that level of control.

Lofty. That’s what Mipha’s gaze felt like. She didn’t appear ashamed, or regretful with her tall back and loose shoulders. That was good, he thought. He wouldn’t be able to hold back his rage if she did.

“...I won’t apologize.”

“I don’t want an apology from you,” Link stated flatly, turning to face her completely.

 _‘I won’t forgive you,’_ is what he said.

For a moment, her head lowered.

“It was necessary,” she repeated her earlier words. “Our princess must understand that it is not prayer that will help her.”

 _“What_ are you talking about? She already knows that,” Link retorted. “You think she has any faith in praying? She’ll keep hurting herself or running stupid experiments.”

“Yes, she will,” surprisingly, Mipha agreed. She cocked her head at him. “You haven’t realized? Pain is a form of prayer to her.”

That made him pause.

Emboldened by his hesitation, the girl took a mere two steps forward, continuing on, “Think of what she’s done since she was a child. Freezing in water, depriving herself of sleep- traveling up and down mountains until her feet are sore and bleeding.”

She flipped her spear and embedded it into the earth, determined and frustrated.

“That father of hers told her over and over again that shedding blood was the reason you have that sword.” She pointed, accusatory. “Do you not realize that your _example_ is the very reason she had herself beaten in those temples? You are correct in that it has given her hope, but it has done nothing but lead her even further down the wrong path!”

Mipha never raised her voice quite like that before.

Least of all to him.

Link ran a hand over his face, pacing. “...I agree,” he bit out. His eyes shut tightly. “It needed to change.”

“That is all then, isn’t it?”

His head jerked towards her with a vicious glare. 

The anger returned in full force, casting aside the guilt that temporarily overshadowed it. _“No,_ it’s not! Why didn’t you talk to me?”

“Because you never would have agreed. Not in truth.”

_“What?”_

Mipha’s hands curled into fists. There was pain seeping through her equable mask. “You have a good heart...” she declared, “but when it comes to her all it does is _bleed.”_

She shook her head- growing emotional, disapproving, or letting her frustration take control of her. “You never would have taken that leap! Could you have really done it? Tell her that the Goddess handed you that blade on a whim whilst she spent over a decade toiling on her knees? Could you tear away what little hope her father had given her with that lie?”

“I don’t know. You never gave me the chance to.”

That statement was a petty one. She was probably right, but he was too stubborn to admit it completely.

Mipha had nothing to say to that. It was as she said: she wouldn’t apologize.

With no further comments, he walked past her, remarking, “There had to have been a better way.”

“I’m sure there was,” she admitted gravely as her eyes followed him, “but neither of you would ever have been ready, Link. Not in time.”

“...In time,” he repeated.

The Deku Tree had told him danger was still far on the horizon.

Was that still true?

There was already too much to think about. “It doesn’t matter. It’s done.”

The Zora princess didn’t agree with that.

“Link, I encourage you to remember that you have sworn to put Hyrule first!” she called, prompting him to halt in his steps. “I’d hoped you were capable of making hard decisions when we ascended as Champions, but after seeing you unable to tell even one hurtful truth, I fear that you are too soft to make the sacrifices necessary to protect our people.”

 _‘Could you give your life for Hyrule?’_ she was asking. _‘Could you let those close to you die for the greater good?’_

The harsh finality in his words surprised even him when he bit back, “Dying is easy, Mipha. I’ll do that much for Hyrule, but _don’t_ expect me to sacrifice anyone else in the process.”

Her mouth remained closed. He waited for a denial- for her to tell him he was weak and selfish, but her argument never came. Instead, she said quietly:

“...That’s all then, is it?”

“This time, it is.”

With that, he slipped out of view- leaving Mipha on that lonely, lonely hill of hers. 

  


* * *

  


Zelda had finally left her hiding hole.

Link knew this only because a few Sheikah passed him in the courtyard: ever so subtly dragging her by the arm back into town. One of them stopped to inform him that she had climbed a bookshelf, shimmied her way out of the library through those small windows, and snuck off to the Veiled Falls.

He assumed it was because she wanted space, but catching sight of a hightail lizard poking its head out of her shirt collar left him doubting that. It had blinked at him- seemingly as oblivious to its purpose as he was.

Maybe he should keep an eye on her?

That possibility was dashed when Zelda quite literally snarled at him and stuffed that poor lizard out of sight.

It was best to maintain distance, perhaps.

(Interrogating a Sheikah gleaned that Impa was still ranting to King Dorephan. Mipha was no doubt summoned into that throne room as well- to be either punished or thoroughly reprimanded for her actions. Though, knowing her father, it would be nothing more than a slap on the wrist so long as she continued to behave.)

Link chose to confine himself to his own room early. Brooding was all he could do that night. At the very least, he wasn’t likely to be disturbed by Sheikah, Zora, or wayward princesses looking to cause a scandal. 

That prediction held true. For the first time in what felt like weeks, Link had a peaceful, full night’s sleep. But peace never lasted, did it? 

Three sharp knocks rapped against his door. They were quick: demanding and urgent. Startled awake, he glanced at the clock to see it was nearly five in the morning. There was another set of knocks- same in tempo and number.

They startled him again, but only because he recognized who it belonged to:

Zelda.

His heart rate suddenly quickened. Was she there to talk? To tell him to never come near her again? There was hope, fear, and worry roiling in him all at once as he timidly opened the door.

The expression on her face did nothing to ease his anxieties.

The princess looked a hair’s breadth from irate. She was scowling up at him, the frown plastered on her face larger than he’d seen in years, and her arms were crossed tightly across her chest. There was even a curl to her lip- as if merely looking at him made her want to snarl again.

Curious, his eyes flicked to her collar.

No lizard to be found.

“Tell me, is there any particular reason you are staring at my _chest?”_

He bristled at that. That tone of hers was haughty, indignant. Goddess, it sounded exactly like the tantrum she’d thrown on their way to Rito Village.

Link’s eyes slid back up to hers. They held each other’s cranky stare for what felt like ten seconds before he said:

“...Are you here to fight or talk?”

Zelda’s hands moved to her hips. _“Neither.”_

It was at that moment he realized there were two packs slung around her shoulders. One of them was familiar.

“What... are you doing with my things?”

When had she _stolen_ them? Last night? In his daze, he hadn’t noticed anything was missing.

“Put on the rest of your clothes, fix that ridiculous hair of yours, and come with me,” was her complete lack of a proper answer.

There was nothing he could do other than send her a dubious look. Upon opening his mouth to speak, the girl cut him off with a growl.

“I will not tolerate questions,” she jabbed a finger in his face, standing on her toes as her voice lowered into a vicious hiss, “Now, do as I say or I will _poison your next meal.”_

Link quickly shut the door to do as she commanded. When he opened it again, Zelda was tapping her foot impatiently.

“We are going on a walk,” she explained as she tossed his stolen pack to him. Link wanted to know what kind of walk entailed bringing along all of their possessions, but he wasn’t about to try asking another question.

Soon, he was trudging behind her, watching her bag rustle with every stomp. What kind of trap was he being led to? Did she plan to lure him to a cliff? Throw him off? Finally get around to drowning him?

It seemed likely. 

Zelda was keeping an eye on their surroundings- slinking around pillars and ushering him quickly through open areas. It was as if she was trying to sneak around a Lynel, what with her back low and her fingers grazing the marble as she darted to cover. Aside from the fact that he had no idea what she was so wary of, all her secrecy didn’t seem necessary.

Dense mist was rolling through the city: the night’s chill still lingering in the air. It was far too early for anyone to be in the darkened streets as well; none inhabited them save for the occasional sleepy guard, and Link was shaking his head right alongside them- trying to dispel some of his own grogginess.

It wasn’t until they were nearly across the Great Bridge that she finally revealed the truth of what she’d been plotting- her words turning to fog in the air.

“We are leaving.”

That shocked him. “What?”

“I am not spending another second in this _accursed_ city.”

“Zelda,” Link protested reluctantly, “We’re supposed to be here for another month.”

Not that he wanted to stay, either, but he was certain Impa would throw more than one sharp object at him if he let this happen.

Her pace did not slow.

“The conference- your aunt’s clergy? What about Impa’s lessons? She’s going to tutor you, isn’t she?”

“Ah, yes,” Zelda’s reply was a rambling drawl. “I’m also supposed to participate in aiding Mipha’s fundraiser for the renovations of Oren Bridge. Oh! And there’s Muzu’s council on selecting new tutors to send to the castle. I think the Gerudo ambassador is supposed to arrive soon, too, alongside that Rito delegate. What was his name? Gracio? Well, I doubt I would have been able to speak with either of them, anyway. I’m sure I would’ve been busy acting as a witness to the extension of the Domain’s borders into the Wetlands.”

Her arms were gesturing wide and dramatically as if she was ranting.

“Normally, I would be quite anxious with such a full schedule. But as I sat in that library yesterday, the strangest sensation came over me.” The princess turned around, slowing her step. “You see, I realized that I simply didn’t _care.”_

“Impa’s not going to let you leave,” Link’s protest was stronger that time. He threw out his arm to the distant city behind them, yelling, “I bet she’s already chasing after us!”

“Oh, _yes,_ Link,” there was suddenly a wild look in her eye. “I am perfectly aware of that.”

The girl reached into her pack, pulling out a bottle. Blue liquid sloshed around in it- the color vibrant. Fresh.

A realization came over him: the _lizard._

“Zelda,” Link warned, taking a step forward, “Don’t you _dare.”_

She uncorked it with her thumb.

“Do not drink that! We both know I’ll catch you!”

Their eyes were locked onto each other, unblinking. Daring.

“You know,” she remarked, “it’s good that you exterminated so many Lynels on Death Mountain. Their parts result in _very_ potent elixirs.”

Maybe he should have leapt forward to stop her, but he merely watched in horror as she chugged the entirety of that elixir, wiped her mouth, and ordered:

“Keep up.”

Half a second later, Link was sprinting as fast as he could behind Zelda as she bolted into Ruto Mountains- away from the enraged Sheikah woman that was no doubt hot on their trail. 

He was never able to catch her; for the first time in his life, someone had completely outpaced him. Several times he got close: his hands grazing the ends of her hair or the textile of her pack, yet it was all fruitless. One quick dart in the other direction was enough to make him stumble over himself and start all over again.

He could only imagine what atrocious things she’d thrown into that elixir. It lasted far too long- carrying her all the way up Ruto Mountains and down to the end of Luto’s Crossing. Zelda probably would have ran even farther, but she suddenly stopped before they finished crossing that bridge.

Link skidded to a halt behind her, doubling over with exhaustion and relief.

When he looked up in confusion, she was staring at something. There was a Zora waiting for them at the end of that bridge, cradling a sleeping child in her arms.

Mipha.

“...Good morning,” she greeted the both of them.

Whatever expression was on Zelda’s face, he didn’t know. It was impossible for him to tell what she was thinking- what she thought of Mipha after what had happened. Her own childish reaction towards him was unusual and far from what he’d expected.

She was still a mystery, wasn’t she? Both her and Mipha, really.

“Good morning,” Zelda offered quietly. A switch had been flipped: there wasn’t a hint of fury left in her voice.

Link walked forward, standing next to the Hylian princess. “...What are you doing here?”

Mipha’s gaze was downcast, burdened. The girl forced a smile that made his stomach churn.

“I always see you off don’t I?” Mipha’s hand drifted across Sidon’s head, his feather curling around her neck. “...Though, I only hoped you would say goodbye to Sidon. He’ll miss you dearly.”

Zelda looked between the two of them, her face unreadable as she stepped to the side. He gathered himself as best he could before he approached. The young prince stirred, and mumbled something content when Link’s hand swept across his head.

“...Do you expect the same from him?” he questioned. Even that whisper seemed loud in the stillness of dawn.

The girl shut her eyes, still smiling through pain, and nestled her own head against Sidon’s.

“I would... like for him to be spared of this path,” she paused, meeting Link’s eyes. “I fight to protect him. Not to be an example.”

He nodded, solemn.

Looking back at Zelda, she appeared frozen: a patient observer. Briefly, there was a thought that occurred to him. Did she tell Mipha of their departure? It was the only explanation, but unravelling all the implications of that seemed beyond him in that moment.

A part of Link was still against the idea of abandoning their duties, but the girl was right. They couldn’t stay any longer. It was simply time to move on from Zora’s Domain.

With that, he took the lead and walked off. Zelda followed- perhaps exchanging a meaningful look with her Zora counterpart as they went. No doubt Mipha would linger, watching them as they were swallowed up by the morning fog.

Before it could take them, he stopped.

“Mipha,” Link addressed over his shoulder. She perked up, her lips parting ever so slightly. He let a hush pass between them, unsure of his decision, yet ultimately settled on what his gut told him. “...Write letters, ok?”

The dam behind her emotions seemed to break as she buried her face into Sidon’s head. Her arms tightened around him as Link realized that toddler had become another source of comfort for her.

That was good, he thought. She needed more to cling to than just a piece of cold metal.

“I will,” she forced out. _“I’m sorry.”_

“Don’t worry,” he comforted her despite his resentment, “I’ll forgive you someday.”

Mipha had been prepared to let their friendship crumble into nothing. It was just another sacrifice to make, and while he was certainly tempted to allow that to happen in all his bitterness, he knew it would be too painful to burn that bridge.

Link had no desire to throw away over thirteen years of companionship and kindness- just as he had no intention to ever choose between the people he loved or Hyrule itself.

He would have them both, or nothing at all.

The root of it all was nothing but selfishness, and it was exactly why Link knew he didn’t deserve Mipha’s feelings. 

  


* * *

  


“Tell me,” Impa proposed a query as she eyed him from her plush seat, “How is it I always find you loitering in my house after hours?”

Link glanced up from his Slate, blue light cast across his features.

“You have comfy pillows,” he said, gesturing beneath him to the fluffed material he’d stolen from her closet.

Her head tipped from side to side as if she couldn’t refute that logic. 

Regardless of their similar taste in household furnishings, the old woman wiggled a finger at him in an interrogating manner. “You fiddle with that thing just as much as she did.”

The screen went black, and shadows swept over his face. “...I guess we picked up a lot of habits from each other.”

“Yes, so which one upset you this time?” she crooned. Her tone was motherly, but without nonsense. Impa had waited one hundred years for a teenager to stumble through her doors; she had little patience remaining for the drawn out brooding sessions of what was now a young man.

Link scoffed, sitting straight. “The one where you slapped me for starters.”

Impa chortled at that, rolling her eyes. “Which one?”

“There are _more?”_

“You have no right to be surprised.”

Link tipped his head from side to side as if he couldn’t refute that.

With their usual banter out of the way, he sighed, letting his mental exhaustion take him.

“Did you try to come after us? When we ran?”

There was steam flowing from Impa’s cup of tea as she raised it, taking a long, contemplative sip from it. She opened one eye, curious, “Did you notice the lack of Sheikah guards I had at her door?”

“I figured she’d drugged all of you, somehow.”

 _“That!”_ Impa snapped. “That is exactly what that little minx did! You would not believe the pile of drunken Sheikah I’d encountered dragged into her room!”

His head was in his hands. All he could do was laugh at the image of that.

Glass clinked. She’d set down her cup, and he could smell chamomile slowly wafting through that shuttered room. Impa exhaled with both satisfaction and exasperation, most likely from the warming tea and that tumultuous morning of hers. “By the time I found anything was amiss, our Zora princess had wandered back into town, weepy eyed and imploring me not to follow.”

Impa would tell him she was determined to go after them at first, but eventually gave in.

The woman was bashful when she admitted, “I’m a romantic, you see. It was always my greatest weakness. Though, I certainly didn't let you off the hook later on.”

He was staring at the roof now.

“I was partly convinced nothing would come of it,” she mused. “I thought the gap that appeared between you two could not be bridged. Not completely.”

Link nodded in agreement. “I thought so, too. But… somehow we moved on in only a week.”

“Oh?” she joked. “And how in Hylia’s name did you manage to get back into her good graces so quickly?”

His eyes were looking past Impa: his face blank as the memory resurfaced.

There was an embittered stare across the fire, freezing water, and warm, bare skin under his fingertips.

Link swallowed, and said, “I’m sorry, but I want to keep that to myself.”

An eyebrow was raised high. “I imagine you should.” 

Cuckoos were clucking outside the window. No doubt they'd escaped again. "...She said something I think she regrets, too."

"Is that what bothers you?"

"Some of it," he smirked dryly. "The things she asked for at that spring were the only prayers Hylia ever answered." 

He didn't elaborate on that, and instead fell back against the wall again. The Master Sword lay by him, unused, and it frustrated him. "Why does she keep insisting I get my memories first?"

The Beasts were freed. They were ready, and yet Zelda's voice would echo in his head, pleading for something other than rescue.

"She is as mysterious as the Goddess," was all Impa could say to that. "It comes with being one and the same, I imagine."

So she surmised, but just how much of Hylia was actually in her? Link had a feeling he'd figured out the answer to that somewhere along the way, yet, of course, it was nothing but intuition without a proper memory attached to it.

He'd returned to brooding, so his old friend stood after that: groaning as any century-old woman would. “I have one more question for you, if you would humor me.”

Link sat mute: waiting.

“Do you feel the same, still? Those memories… do they feel like your own?”

There was an odd emotion in his chest- an ache that left him a little breathless. “In a way they’re my own. But it feels strange to experience everything again, slowly.” His hands grazed the cool Slate again: a weak light flickering at his touch. “...I don’t know how to describe what it’s like to fall in love with the same person a second time.”

It was the best answer he could give on the matter, and although it left her confused, it seemed to be enough for that night.

“I see...” she bowed her head and waddled off her platform, “Well, my door shall always be open. I say that, but I doubt locking it would do much good, either.”

“Goodnight, you old kook,” he snarked.

“I’m not so old that I can’t come over there and smack you a sixth time!” Her cranky retort echoed from the staircase as she marched up to her room- boards creaking as loudly as her joints.

Some things didn’t change, he thought, and let the sound of the night swallow him whole as he walked out the door to help Cado find his precious cuckoos. 

  


* * *

  


Zelda would inherit Link’s silence.

While she ran from her duties in Zora’s Domain, it seemed she had every intention to continue on with the last leg of her pilgrimage. Perhaps she was eager to get it over with: to potentially be rid of her shadow’s presence once and for all.

She reminded him of an empty bucket during that trip.

Her rage had spilled out of her completely, and it appeared to him that she had yet to decide what emotion would replace it. She seemed to deliberate on the matter for some time; there were many moments that he would catch sight of emotion flittering across her features, yet they came and went with such brevity that he was never able to discern what it was that was churning in her mind.

Her words were few and far inbetween, including her passing fancies along the road North. Shrines held no allure for her- neither the peculiar amphibians here at their feet, nor the lush array of blue, red, and yellow safflina there in a shallow ravine.

Thus, reaching Akkala took less than a week.

It was in the golden hour of the day that they passed through a brilliant shower of sunset colored leaves. They drifted from the canopies above Akkala’s Southern Stables- swirling around them. Link feared the change in Zelda was irreparable when she stood motionless amidst that storm of color: not making a single attempt to reach out and steal away one of those leaves for herself.

She’d looked at him in that moment, vacant-eyed and wordless as he handed her a corked jar. A pair of orange and red leaves tumbled inside it when she titled that bottle, taking in the warm colors that refracted through the glass.

He did that often as he followed her through Akkala: picking up glittering stones or flowers she might like, and preserving them in all those empty jars of hers. It was his way of ensuring they were there for her later- ensuring that the better parts of their journey wouldn’t pass her by completely.

They were small gifts. They were little apologies. It was all he could do when words continued to elude him as much as they did her.

It was the night before they would descend the hills into the Spring of Power that she sat across one of the tables in the inn, watching him. There was something expectant behind her gaze that made him feel pressured, but all he could do was poke at his food and think.

Link was growing desperate to lift the blanket of tension between them. He would squirm, he would swallow down words in his throat that he didn’t think were right to say, and he would fret and fret and fret.

Eventually, he just put his head in his hand and sighed.

“Zelda, why did you bring me?”

“...You are my guard,” was her apathetic response.

His mouth twisted, but she couldn’t see it.

“You could have asked Impa to take you and left me there.”

When he looked up, she was blinking as if that had never occurred to her. “I had no desire to do so.”

“You don’t hate me?”

Her eyes were lidded: half focused on him and half focused on the wood surface between them.

“I couldn’t hate you if I tried,” her head lowered as she drew her arms over the table, resting a cheek on them, “and believe me, I have tried.”

“I don’t understand.”

Allowing her to feed off of a false hope for years deserved punishment. It deserved resentment and hatred, even if only temporary. Even if his intentions were good.

She should punish him. He wanted to be punished.

The princess lifted her head again. She was regarding him with what looked like disbelief, annoyance, or hurt at the same time. It was difficult to read- all of it muted and muddled together, and he didn’t have confidence in his ability to pick out whichever emotion was dominant.

“What is it with you, and playing at being _ignorant_ all the time?”

Link wasn’t given an opportunity to respond to that, because she stood and walked off to her room. Feeling as dismal as the cold weather, he looked to the untouched plate of mackerel she’d left behind and sighed a second time.

Unlike Lanaryu, Zelda was allowed entry without a word of protest from those who tended to the Spring of Power. The princess used a door knocker to announce their arrival. It echoed, the sound dull and thudding before no more than four priestesses opened that large set of wooden doors to welcome them. They were decrepit: scraping against stone and splintering along their frames.

Purple. That’s what lined the pale fabrics draped over their figures. Though, if it were in the daylight he guessed it might actually be red.

The oldest of the women glanced his way before the doors could close behind them. She put a hand up before he could take more than two steps in.

“You must wait here,” she said politely but firmly.

Zelda’s objection was half-hearted, but there nonetheless. “...He is Hylia’s Champion, Antistita.”

Several of the women opened their mouths in realization and bowed, moving out of his path completely.

With that, the doors slid shut behind them as they offered their final words for that night:

“If you do not remember the way, merely follow the torches, Your Highness.”

A bar slid into place before they stalked off into the darkest reaches of their ravine: quiet as the Vure. He wondered if these were what the abbeys were like. The ones that Zelda spent seven years confined to. If so, the quiet of her steps at night would make sense to him, along with the gentle tenor of her voice- the way it was often no louder than a whisper.

Halls like these may have been where it was born: her desperation to fill the silence however she could.

“Men are not permitted to pass the threshold,” Zelda explained as she began to lead him out of the entryway, “but they will make an exception for you… Being Hylia’s favorite has its perks, you see.”

He didn’t know if she meant for those words to sting, but they did nonetheless.

Even back then, the temples scattered along the winding path leading to Hylia’s shrine were considered ancient. With so few women lingering in those ruins, it may as well have been abandoned and left to crumble into nothing.

“There are few who are willing to tend to this spring in the Winter. It is unforgiving in the cold,” she murmured- perhaps sensing his thoughts.

Dead leaves tumbled past their feet as they ghosted through open halls, under archways, and around dusty benches. Somehow, Zelda must have remembered the way through those winding, winding paths, because it wasn’t long before their trail of torchlight ended at the mouth of a tunnel. Browning vines were entangled over its entrance: swaying stiff in the wind that billowed and howled through that narrow passage.

Zelda’s hand brushed aside those crumbling vines, and soon, she was wading into freezing waters.

Link spared a moment to take in the sight of that moss-laden statue. Moonlight danced across the water’s surface: its image distorting right alongside Zelda’s reflection. Committing it to memory, he turned away, dutifully keeping watch. 

The waterfalls drowned out most of her words. They became clearer as her voice would rise during her one-sided conversation, growing in severity with every passing second.

 _‘Grandmother’_ he heard her say. _‘Spirits.’_

He turned only slightly to hear her better. Link felt as though he was eavesdropping- it felt rude and intrusive, yet he did it anyway. He was willing to stoop to that much if it meant garnering even a shred of insight to what had been swirling in her head for days.

“-Mother said her own power would develop within me,” her voice sounded bewildered to him. It was weak, and at a loss as she continued, “But I don’t hear… or feel anything!”

 _‘Quit wasting your time playing at being a scholar,’_ the girl would recite. 

Zelda always said she hated repeating herself, but she never hesitated to repeat the callous words of those who would admonish or belittle her. She’d let them take residence at the back of her mind: she’d let them fester there and grow into things worse than mere words.

Insecurities, doubts, and fear is what they would become.

“Curse you.”

Water splashed. 

“I’ve spent every day of my life dedicated to praying! I’ve pleaded to the spirits tied to the ancient gods…” there was a fraughtful tremor in her voice, breaking and pitching into something that made Link’s grip tighten around his sword. “And still the holy powers have proven deaf to my devotion... Please just tell me… What is it…? What’s wrong with me?!”

Zelda was hunched over- arms wrapped around her sides. Even as the princess began to shake, he was sure it wasn’t from the night air. Anger was flaring and stiffening her shoulders.

“I’ve given my pride and dignity to you,” she seethed. “...I have bled and opened my heart and yet you still continue to abandon me.”

Her nails were digging into her arms- into the faded bruises still lingering on her skin. Venom began to seep into her words and betray the pleading nature of them.

“If you never intend to give me your blessing, then I beg you, at least show me _mercy_... Let my father renounce me, let my country forget about me- or let them all perish so that I may never suffer beneath their scorn again!”

“Zelda.”

The girl stopped shaking. He’d startled her; it was clear she’d forgotten he was there, listening to her grow closer and closer to spouting blasphemy in the Goddess’ face.

Very slowly, she turned- one miserable eye visible over her shoulder as she stared back at him.

His voice carried easily. It was insistent, yet layered with a plea of his own. “...Come out of the water.”

She faced him, but didn’t move.

 _“Please,”_ he begged. 

The girl might’ve been as weak to his requests as he was hers.

Several moments later, her hand brushed over his as she stepped up onto the platform. Zelda allowed him to keep hold of her as they left that spring behind, retreating to torchlight and rolling fields. Link marched them straight into the cover of the trees- their horses lazily following behind, and set their camp as Zelda sat inches from a warm fire.

Her skin may have been nearly burning at that distance, but she might have preferred that to the numbness of icy water.

Once her tent was set up, the girl burrowed into it, emerging minutes later in warmer clothes to join Link at the fire yet again.

He looked across the flames with a silent question. Zelda took notice before returning her attention to the burning wood at her feet.

“I’m alright, Link. I’m… disappointed, is all.”

“...I’m sorry.”

“For what?”

“A lot of things.”

There was a thoughtful hum before she said, “There’s no need… I’ve been angry, but I haven’t been able to decide who I’m angry with.”

All that did was confuse him. “How?”

Her face was marred with a deep frown- this time from distress rather than impatience and disdain. “Well...I think I already knew the truth. Somewhere in my head, I knew it wasn’t right.”

Fingers were drumming across her forearms, her chin set on her knees as always. 

“I told you I saw two things in you at once, didn’t I? The grand portrait my father presented didn’t resemble you at all… and, it didn’t make sense- the idea that he had disguised that sword of yours. What point was there in hiding it for only a few days?”

She knew it was off, but never asked questions. Zelda may have preferred the fantasy herself: finally having an example to follow that wasn’t set by a pile of bones in a casket.

“I broke our promise,” Link maintained.

Her head shook. “You know… when I was young, I was so eager to awaken my powers that I prayed religiously for days and nights beneath the abbey windows.”

She wouldn’t eat or sleep, she remarked.

“It wasn’t out of responsibility. It was because it meant I would be able to commune with the dead… I thought... maybe I could hear my mother’s voice again. Maybe… I could make my father visit me.”

Why was she telling him this?

It was upsetting him.

“I never told you that secret, so I must have broken our promise, too.” Zelda’s voice held ridicule in it as she hammered in her point, “When I asked for honesty, I meant from that point forth. I never expected either of us to share everything that makes us ashamed.”

“...It was more than that. It affected you.”

Zelda grew frustrated with his constant protests. She stood abruptly and demanded, “Stop trying to make me hate you! There is no room in my heart left for it, Link.” She gestured to the sky, incensed, “I already despise the Goddess. I hardly even love my mother’s memory anymore, I _hate_ her for casting a shadow on me! And my father- I loathe him for berating me day in and day out! Even in his _letters!”_

Her arms lowered along with her voice. “The last person I want to add to that list is _you,_ don’t you understand?”

She was willing to ignore it all for the sake of keeping him close.

He wasn’t sure when or why he’d moved to his feet. He just watched her rub her arms in dumb silence- the chilly air finally getting to her after all this time.

“You’re just… going to forgive me like that?”

“I don’t know, yet.” A shrug. It had no confidence. “...You told Mipha you would forgive her, too, did you not? Eventually.”

Resenting him wouldn’t help her, she expounded. She’d tried for a week already, and it did nothing to soothe her pain. It only made it worse.

“You said-” she stopped, afraid, but forged on, “You said that sword isn’t what binds you to me… I don’t want it to be what separates us, either, Link.”

It was for her to choose, he supposed, what she would do with that anger of hers.

Zelda looked up at him, searching for something. “Is that what you’ve wanted? For me to distance myself from you?”

His answer was quick and assured. “No.”

The girl nodded. There was a sigh that escaped her- and perhaps she meant for it to be considered one of tiredness, but it only sounded disheartened and disappointed to him.

It struck some sort of chord in him, because it was exactly how he felt, as well.

When she backed away, Link’s hand moved without his consent to stop her. It would hover: his fingers touching the bare skin of her neck. Again, he didn’t know why he’d done such a thing, and could do nothing but stand there dumb and unsure of how he could take it back or move forward. Zelda didn’t brush him away. She looked at that gesture, evaluating it and deciding what she would do with it.

Paralyzed as he was, it would leave him at her mercy. She would do with him what she would.

Embers were floating between them, carried by a light breeze. The air always seemed to stir when she glanced away- pulled in whichever direction she chose. The canopies above them rustled. Branches creaked loudly, and as her gaze returned to his, those winds calmed. Still as death.

He was reminded of those creatures that swam below Zora’s Domain: bending the laws of nature as they pleased.

Her eyes were the same color, weren’t they?

“What is it with you, and looking at me like that?” Her own hand reached up, wrapping around his. “It is the same look you give that sword, did you know that?”

Zelda’s fingers would tighten, nails ever so slightly pressing into flesh.

“...Explain it to me. What it means.” That was a demand regardless of what her indifferent tone may suggest.

It meant they were both double edged- that was all. A desirable danger, perhaps.

Well aware of his own weakness when it came to explaining himself, Link could only shake his head.

“You know I’m not good with words, Zelda,” he whispered hopelessly.

The girl moved closer, eager for whatever answer she could pry from him.

“Then do what you can.”

She was patient- despite the trouble he’d caused with all his floundering and overthinking and unfair habits. How much had he tortured her, going back and forth by asking for so little, yet taking so much? He assumed he’d do the same now: remove his hand and come up with some ridiculous lie to explain away his behavior. However, he never did.

The reason was clear; a calm feeling had washed over him when he’d spoken to Mipha atop that hill. It was similar to what Zelda said as they ran from Zora’s Domain- that she simply didn’t care about her duties anymore. Two years and counting was what it took for his desire to finally overpower his fears and cast aside all the pesky trepidations or sensibilities which kept his head right on his shoulders.

Maybe seeing her stand alone in that spring was the breaking point. Or, maybe it was seeing her on the ground two nights ago: opening and inspecting all the little gifts he’d collected for her when she thought he was still asleep. It was the way she would cradle and marvel at them in secret that left him unable to do anything but lay there, watching and trying to ignore the pain splitting in his chest.

It was all he could do, but it wasn’t enough. Not for him, at least. He wanted to be capable of more than that. 

Even now, the tensing of her jaw, the wide eyes, and the hope swimming behind them made him think she wanted him to be capable of more, too.

Link supposed that was the reason why he wound up kissing her.

She didn’t move away- even when he pulled at her arm, drawing her closer. He could feel her own hands on his chest, momentarily clinging to his shirt to prevent even him from backing out of what he’d done.

Hands lifted, any remaining hesitance drawn and coaxed out of him by fingers tracing lines across the sides of his face. Gentle as the motion was, it raked though him- and that splitting pain from two nights ago returned to crack him in two. It wasn't enough. These phantom-like touches. Ones that had grown all too common since Death Mountain. Since the Wetlands, even. His arm wrapped around her, a palm at the back of her head as he fought to eliminate any space left between them.

Maybe it was all timid at first, but the moment she gasped against his mouth, it turned far from innocent or gentle. Her back was suddenly against bark- the surface as rough as his own touch, and for the barest moment, a shred of sense returned to him.

He broke away, managing a hoarse apology, "I didn't-"

She merely cut him off by yanking him toward her again: bending and breaking whatever will he had to maintain some decency in what they were doing. For all her red-faced stammering, Zelda was surprisingly forceful, and Link discovered he didn’t mind that one bit.

She was always forceful though, wasn't she? More so than he ever was and in so many different ways. A laugh almost escaped him in the middle of kissing her. Was he the shy one? Goddess, he was, wasn't he? Always had been, even at the tourney. Even in that cave from what felt like a thousand years ago- hardly able to look her in the eye. Though, in that moment with Zelda pinned against him, it seemed that particular trait of his had taken its leave for the night.

Leather gloves were cast away moments before his hands found their way beneath that loose shirt of hers. Rucking up fabric. Roving over bare skin. Her quick breaths fanned past his neck, wasted rather than used to form words- to remind him of just where he should and shouldn't put his hands. It was probably fair. He certainly hadn't made any effort to remind her of the same.

It was both a relief and not at the same time. For the life of him, he didn’t know how he’d resisted for so long- and after hearing her gasp again when he pulled at her hair, tilting back her head to kiss her at a better angle, he just wound up angry at his past self for letting her leave that room in Zora’s Domain.

Impa could stab him with all five of her blades. Urbosa could yank all of his hair out. He didn’t care.

There was a fog in his head when they stood there, catching their breath moments later. Green inches away- the two of them close enough that he could brush his thumb across her bottom lip and take in the flush of her cheeks. Her hair was a tangle, falling over her shoulders and a face that was caught between shock or some kind of incredulous amusement. Honestly, he probably had the same dumb look on his own face. That same mess of an expression.

A picture to commit to memory, all this, he thought.

Or, maybe, he would simply recreate it later.

  
  



	17. Wax and Wings

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. The castle is gloomy, I'm excited to bring the Champions in next chapter to liven it up  
> 2\. Half of this chapter I like and half I hate we'll see how this goes ahaha  
> 3\. So we've got one more chapter (covering Zelda's birthday w/ the champions) and then we're climbing Lanayru. We're almost there guys, I can see the finish line LOL
> 
> 4\. EDIT: I wound up with a twitter account somehow so if anyone has questions / thoughts about this fic feel free to shoot me a message @ClaraAeri

It was three weeks later that Zelda stood in her room at the East Akkala Stables, holding up her white dress. It was frozen stiff from last night’s prayers in the Spring of Power- the water soaking it having turned to ice. The thing crinkled when she tried to shake it out. Link was leaning against the doorframe, looking at it with as much distaste as the princess.

“Hot springs,” she said, dropping it.

“Hot springs?”

_“Hot springs.”_

North, she claimed, and so they went.

Her passing fancies had returned in full force; and it was clear she’d had every intention of making up for the time she’d lost praying at the Spring of Power during the last few weeks. She had nothing to show for her efforts, after all. Therefore, discarding her dress was an insistence that they depart those waters for good- a distraction, and a show at casting aside the cold once and for all.

Although Zelda’s quiet frustration returned fairly often, she would always recover: steeling herself for freezing waters time and time again. Except, instead of pleading and accusing, she had said nothing. Done nothing. The princess had watched mute as the moss on that statue slowly browned and flaked off with the encroaching chill of Winter.

“I've been there before, you know, when I first traveled,” Zelda was telling him as they rode up those tall hills. “Though, recently the priests have forbidden me from returning. It's gradually become far too infested with monsters, you see. Hardly a single pilgrim has been able to make it even halfway into that jungle.”

It was the Spring of Courage which she was speaking of.

“I would suggest we leave you in there for a week. I’m sure it will be perfectly safe by the time you’re finished.”

It was a joke, but the way she squinted at him and put a finger to her chin told him it was probably something to be considered. Link shrugged- he wouldn’t be against the idea.

“Or I could simply release a few Guardians.”

That, too.

“The tourney,” she reminded him as they paced the edge of a cliff overlooking a deep canyon. “You said you didn’t think.”

He looked up from the bright flowers lurking beneath clear waters, the memory quick to replay itself in his mind. “Yeah. I did whatever my gut told me to.”

Zelda saved the pictures she was taking and powered off her Slate, approaching to study him better. The way she narrowed her eyes made him awfully suspicious. “When you drew that sword, was anything going through your head then?”

Link shook his head.

“Weren’t you nervous going up to it?” She pressed, confused.

If he was, he couldn’t recall. “I... don’t think so.”

A slight frown pulled at her lips. She was circling him- scrutinizing something.

“Does anything make you nervous?”

“Yes. What you’re doing right now.”

She didn’t stop. “Heights, water, fire, monsters. You lack fear simply because you don’t think when threatened by any of them?”

He looked over his shoulder. Zelda’s expression was somewhere between concerned and puzzled. “...Maybe.”

The girl finally stopped, faced him with crossed arms, and shared the results of her questionnaire. “You’re clever. Instinctive.” A finger was tapping away. “I’m wondering if… there might be wisdom in the way you think? Or the lack thereof.”

Link mulled it over. “Things always go worse for me when I try to think them through.”

Somehow, impulse was a better friend to him than reason.

“Overwatering will bear little fruit, won’t it?” Zelda chirped, nodding resolutely. Their conversation ended when she snatched up his hand and led him away from that canyon. Though, Link couldn’t leave the subject behind as easily. He was as intrigued by her behavior as she was his.

Mipha’s decision was changing her, but he wasn’t sure how just yet.

Four days passed before they reached the very edges of Akkala.

They weren’t far from the hot springs. Warmth was seeping down the hillsides, and Link breathed deep- relieved- but his nose scrunched. Zelda’s did as well. She pinched her nose as she furrowed her brow at him, disgusted.

Baked fish. Rotted vegetables.

“Hinox,” he warned.

The princess carped a warning of her own, “He’d better not be in my springs.”

The Hinox had made a grave mistake that afternoon: snoring away in several different pools of steaming water. They were peering at it from behind a dead tree, two pairs of eyes blinking curiously. It seemed content, starfished across the ground and scratching idly at its stomach. There was a collection of shiny objects in its possession as usual- glittering metal mingling with roasted meats.

Completely serious, he remarked, “Looks like you.”

Instead of sending Link a vicious lour, she quipped, “And it smells like you.”

How _dare_ she?

“Would you like to do the honors?” Zelda whispered before he could object to that gibe of hers.

His offense was immediately forgotten. Smirking darkly, Link quietly snapped his fingers and gestured for her to stay behind their tree. He slinked out to approach the monster, stepping around pools of water as best he could. The Hinox was a darker color than most- the shade of coal and charred wood.

That meant better hearing, faster movements, and annoyingly resilient.

None of which he really cared about.

When he was close enough, Link wandered right up to it and kicked water in its face.

The Hinox emitted a rumbling, garbled noise as it startled awake. Its hand reached out and slammed into the spot where Link stood. He’d rolled away, water spraying as he skidded to a halt, and within seconds it was looming over him, blocking out the rays of light above.

The earth rumbled with each stomp. He ducked beneath another swipe of its hand, a torrent of wind rushing over his back before he darted forward, snatched at the rope of its leg guards, and started climbing.

It was thrashing around, trying to swat at him as if he were some sort of persistent mosquito. Trees snapped in all its stumbling, water splattering every which way. It was fruitless. Link wound up scaling that creature and squatting on its nose faster than it could sneeze, peering into its eye as he taunted:

 _“Feisty,_ huh?”

Before it could raise a hand, he drew his sword and slashed it across its eye. The Hinox roared in pain; the sound was almost deafening in their proximity. Link was ready to thrust his weapon straight through its eye just as it scuttled backwards- tripping and falling. It was too sudden: the monster was descending too fast for him to retain his footing.

Soon they were both tumbling through hot springs again. Surprisingly, he wound up mere feet from Zelda and her tree. She waved.

As short as it was, that gesture was a long enough distraction for that Hinox to sit up. Enraged, it blindly raked its hand across the earth. Zelda yelped after Link sprinted to her, wrapped an arm around her waist, and yanked her off her feet. They narrowly dodged the attack, their withered tree splintering and spiraling off into the air.

He spun to prepare for its next move, but froze. The Hinox was already falling backwards from an obsidian spear tearing violently through its eye and out the back of its head. The blow was irrecoverable; the monster vanished from sight before it even made contact with the earth.

Vegetables, weapons, and meat alike were still raining upon them when Link noticed a group of men standing next to the explosion. They wore bright colors: the whites, blues, and silvers of six Hylian knights. One, however, stuck out in all his dark tones of black or gold as he stood straight, dusting off his hands in a nonchalant manner.

It seemed he’d gotten bored of watching that confrontation.

Zelda was still dangling in his arm as she grunted, bending her back just far enough to stare up at them. Her voice was a little strained in his grip, yet perfectly calm as she asked, “...Am I imagining things, or is that your father?”

She certainly wasn’t. The man had put a hand on his hip, saluting lazily in greeting. Link glanced down to the princess hanging at his side like a sack of flour, and then at his father before he opened his mouth.

“Hi, dad.”

His luggage wiggled from his grasp to shake the water out of her hair. The rest of the men eventually snapped out of their daze and bowed to greet their grand, soggy princess.

His father looked at the spear which was now shattered to pieces in the distance.

“You play with your food too much, you know that?” was the first element of that encounter he deigned to comment on. 

  


* * *

  


Hinox patrol.

It was a seasonal excursion led by one or two imperial guardsmen, followed by a unit of monster-dedicated soldiers. According to the man, he’d made Rhoam angry for one brusque comment or another. Thus, in a rather petty display of authority, the king sent his father off into Hyrule’s approaching Winter weather knowing full well he loathed the cold.

“This was our last stop.” He was inspecting some roasted meat that monster had left behind. It was the afternoon. Perhaps he was evaluating if his hunger was strong enough to test the mysterious waters that were a Hinox’s cooking.

Eventually, it was tossed aside. It appeared his father had a little more sense than his son.

“The hell are you doing here, kid?” The man asked, bewildered.

Link glanced at the princess that was standing with their horses: the group's medical professional assessing her for any injuries. Her hands were moving- flippant and dismissive.

“Her Highness wanted to see the hot springs.”

Eyebrows were raised.

“I don’t have a damn clue what you’re doing out of the shrine a month early touring hot springs, but,” he yawned, knowing full well how fickle the princess was, “I don’t care. Are you done with this trip or not?”

He nodded.

“You said you’re done, too?” Link asked as the man waltzed past.

He waved a hand. “Northeast is done. Farland can take care of the Central route ‘cause I’m _sick_ smelling Hinox sweat.” His father stopped, looking over his shoulder. “Head back to the castle with us if you’re out of magic water to visit.”

Link wouldn’t object. They looked to Zelda, who was now submerged in a hot spring whilst several guards stared down at her.

“...We’ll wait for Her Highness to finish, I guess,” his father graciously offered.

After half a year, it was time to return to Hyrule Castle.

The trip would take several weeks; his father hurried his men along, childishly desperate to escape from chilly winds. And with so many chaperones, Zelda had no choice but to remain glued to their path despite the longing stares she sent to each and every passing shrine.

There was a point at which Link’s father watched on, utterly baffled as he witnessed him and Zelda have a simple conversation regarding what elixirs to use all of her Lynel guts for. He couldn’t blame him; it must have been jarring to see the two of them go from tense, bitter silence to friendly, etiquette abiding debates. Perhaps he was also shocked that the girl hadn’t tried to run off even once, the two of them never more than ten feet apart.

All he could do was shrug at the man. He would pry for an explanation later, no doubt, but he wasn’t concerned. None of their behavior was enough to give away the inappropriate reality of what their relationship had actually become- whatever it was.

Their group would gradually get larger at each crossroad: platoons of men finished with their hunting and making their way home. It was a steady thrum, laced with chatter and scraping metal. He focused on the sound, drowning in the memories that would accompany it, something which made the weeks pass by just as steadily as their march.

It was late in the day when Link and Zelda stood side by side, necks craned to examine the steel gates before them. Sunlight glittered, and a path of bowed heads were forged at their feet: waiting patiently for them to cross the threshold into that opulent palace. Flags rippled. Hooves clopped against brick.

It was home, wasn’t it?

But it felt unfamiliar now.

Link was relieved to find it wasn't Rhoam who awaited them within the sanctum.

It was one of his four brothers. A temporary regent whilst the king was off to attend a wedding on the Great Plateau. Pleasantries would be exchanged, horns would blare, and Zelda was sent off to do as she pleased within the castle.

His father remained in that sanctum for the rest of the day to participate in a council regarding the state of Hyrule’s growing monster infestation. He did, however, make sure to wink at his son as the throne room’s doors closed behind them.

Rhoam's regent was lax enough to give him a break from his duties guarding Zelda. Therefore, Link chose to sneak the sheep and horses below treats until several acquaintances spotted him, snatched him over the fences, and dragged him into the barracks. While a few were new faces, he was familiar with nearly all twenty-three of the men- having known them for around four to five years at that point, or even longer if they were acquainted with his father.

Nevertheless, he was sat at a table as one of the men leaned over it, saying with keen interest, "We heard from Balder you choked a Rito." 

Ahh, fond memories.

“Revali gave me this scar,” he said as he recounted the dinner they’d ruined. He pointed to his forehead. It was still an ugly red. “Then a Molduga tried to eat Urbosa.”

They began to yell at him for blatantly skipping a large expanse of time in his stories. He jokingly ignored their protests, and when he mentioned glowing fish, several of the men started to argue whether or not he was telling the truth about any of it.

Most shook their heads to that. They knew very well the odd things that always seemed to happen around Link. It was a nostalgic sight, and he would look across the group of men bantering around him with some relief.

The air within those barracks was musty: heavy with rust and metal and wax and oil, and yet it was refreshing. It was home, wasn’t it? The cobblestone. The ancient wood.

It’d been too long since he was allowed to move throughout the lower sections of the castle. Before the Champion’s ceremony, if he wasn’t cutting down monsters, Link would be forced to spend all his time on the higher levels: surrounded by nobles, chantry folk, and delegates. They’d gone as far as to give him his own room up in those shining halls; it was a cage of sorts- for Rhoam to keep an eye on Link’s gradual development into the stoic, fairy tale knight he’d envisioned.

As a result, it’d been nearly two years since he’d stepped foot in those barracks.

Link felt that he never fit in within the upper wings. But looking at his brightly colored reflection in an iron shield, it occurred to him that appearances were deceiving. The brilliant blues, vivid violets, and etched gold did well to make himself stand out in all the muted colors of the soldiers’ dwellings. However, his messy hair and tarnished boots seemed right at home.

A small dinner was held in those barracks. It was a ceremony of their own- to welcome back the rude teenager who’d spent half his days amusing them by tackling squires or participating in ridiculous competitions.

Though, Link would notice their cautious words. They would watch what they said around him in regards to nobles or Hylia’s congregation. He was Zelda’s other half now, after all; he was Hylia’s favorite dog- a living weapon of the church. It was fine, he thought. It was enough that they were willing to speak with him.

A story was being told about several Lizalfos hiding in one of Castle Town’s wells when a small team of guards came trudging down the stairs. A hand grasped the back of Link’s chair, yanking him backwards.

He blinked up at the imperial guard above him, a frown beneath his beard.

“Hi, Arlo,” he greeted. A knight in his father’s unit- yet another old friend Link had seen sitting at their dinner table growing up. He’d been one of the first men to speak in his defense within the sanctum, as well.

“Get up,” the older man ordered. “Her Highness has gone and vanished again.”

“...And that’s my problem, how?”

“Six months,” he stated. “You know her habits best, and we don’t play around when night falls, boy.”

Link rolled his eyes as his chair was released, thudding back into place. Before he and those imperial guards could turn the corner, he heard squeaking wheels and the unmistakable sound of chalk scraping across a blackboard’s surface.

It had begun yet again.

That man was entirely right. All it took was one glance at the clock before he knew exactly where the girl had spirited herself away to. Eight at night was when she would always be possessed with an ardent desire to open a book or scribble in a journal. As such, Link found himself standing in the library ten minutes later: watching as Zelda read under rays of moonlight.

Without any particular reason, he’d split off from the other guards- directing them to a side of the castle he knew Zelda wouldn’t be in.

“I’m sorry,” she noticed his presence despite his silent footsteps, “I didn’t mean for them to pull you away from your time off.”

The girl looked up at him from her halo of open books and scattered papers as he approached. Link squatted down, eyes scanning the text she had beneath her fingertips.

“It was... bones you needed to learn about this time?”

She nodded. He sent her a disturbed look.

“Spines can be surprisingly nutritious,” the girl said airily as if that wasn’t the most frightening thing to ever come out of her mouth. The sudden alarm on his face prompted her to become somewhat more self-aware. “...Cuckoos, I mean. For stock.”

Lifting her book, she pointed to the cover and tapped near the title. It was for cooking. Link sighed with relief, and Zelda snickered as she began to stack her things.

“You’re done?” he questioned.

“I may stay a little longer. Just to enjoy the quiet before my father returns,” she began to slide her books into their proper places again- thumbing through the shelves. “It’s hard to go anywhere at night when he’s here.”

“He’s strict about that, isn’t he?” Link helped pick up her mess, taking brief glances at the odd drawings of her notebook. Flowers. Gears and corkscrews. The leaves he’d given her.

Zelda’s fingers slid across rows of uneven spines. “Yes. After my mother’s passing, he fears what the night may bring… Although, I think I’ve come to prefer it.”

 _‘Because of you,’_ was what a fleeting glance in his direction told him.

There was a moment of quiet before her lips parted- a revelation passing over her. “He cares too much… while I suppose yours may care too little.”

That made Link pause.

Several times he’d mentioned his father’s odd parenting methods to her. The princess had seemed a little jealous and perplexed at once, but she’d noted that it certainly explained a lot about him.

“...I don’t know,” he said, and passed her a book. “I think he does care.”

“From a distance?”

“From a distance,” Link repeated, confirming her words.

The last item was shelved before Zelda turned, leaning against those dusty rows of books as she breathed deep.

The library smelled of ink and old paper and wax and lantern oil. He supposed that’s what home smelled like to her. But when she opened her eyes, a kind of disappointment swimming behind them made him think something was missing. Maybe it was something like flames, grease, or turned up earth.

Regardless, when she looked at him, she smiled. There weren’t any words coupled with that gesture- it was merely a weary contentment. His expression mirrored hers before a hand was raised. He took it, letting Zelda draw him close and press their foreheads together. 

“Is it strange for you, too?” she murmured. “Being back.”

It was confirmed with a small nod. There was a thoughtful noise from her, and she posed another query:

“...If my father offers you a chance to leave, would you take it?”

Link didn’t have to think much on it.

“No.”

There was another noise- this time mirthful. “Are you that attached to me?”

“Don’t let it go to your head,” he sassed. “It’s big enough already.”

Zelda leaned back and flicked the space between his eyes. Her retort came when he flinched away, wincing. “If anything is big it’s your _mouth.”_

Link would glower at her for several seconds before a thought occurred to him. 

“That reminds me.”

The princess didn’t get a chance to ask what he meant before he closed the distance between them. Again, she didn’t move away, and merely sank further into him as if she’d been expecting it. Weeks they’d spent standing five or ten feet apart: hardly talking, never touching. It was for so long he’d nearly forgotten what they were and what had happened outside that spring.

Their kiss in that library was different; the way their mouths moved wasn’t nearly as frenzied or impulsive. It was slow. Thoughtful, indulgent- lazy, really, and Link would revel quietly in the way her head always tilted back, deepening that kiss even further.

Being close to her made him lightheaded. Though, it was a pleasant sensation. It was the same relief he would feel after collapsing into a warm bed after a particularly hard day- sleep taking him in a matter of seconds.

“...We should go before they check here,” he suggested after pulling away, unwilling to press their luck for that moment.

There was a nod as they parted, cold air rushing in to fill the new space between them.

The princess was delivered to her guards minutes later, the men complaining to her as she was ushered into her room and out of sight. Of course, Arlo’s head was still poking through her door, yelling and intent on scolding her when Link sensed someone watching him.

His father was standing at the end of the hall, leaning against a window pane. There was a single wave from him as he wandered up to the man.

“Want to head home?” He asked, his gruff tone as gentle as it could be. Not to the upper wings. Home in the woods- that shoddy thing with a broken door and overgrown vines.

An answer wasn’t necessary. The two of them were already walking away.

Sparks flashed as a fire was lit. His father squatted there for some time, warming his hands greedily by that fireplace whilst his son discarded the flashy layers of his outfit and collapsed at their table.

By the time that man rose to his feet, Link’s face was planted into the wood.

The day hadn’t been long, but the months had. The years had.

A chair scraped, and he rolled his head to see his father sitting on the other side: watching tea warm.

“So?” He prompted- eyes still trained on flames beneath that pot of tea. “How are you, kid?”

He had to think about that. Shutting his eyes, his brow furrowed. “...I’m tired.”

An expectant silence passed. Instead of trying to explain the millions of complications in his life, he muttered one name:

“Harlow.”

His father’s gaze flicked towards him immediately- startled. Subtle as it was, Link knew it’d struck something in him.

“...Forgot you knew,” was his musing response. “How much do you know?”

Only three things, really.

“Sheikah,” Link’s arms crossed on the table, his forehead pressing into them as he continued. “Died giving birth. Young.”

There was a hum. It wasn’t particularly thoughtful- it was mere acknowledgement.

He bristled and lifted his head. “Do you have anything to add to that?”

“If you want.”

“Why didn’t you ever say anything?” A hand was running through his hair. He was suddenly frustrated, and looking at the shadows flickering across his father’s indifferent features only made it worse.

Blue eyes slid towards him, calm and clear. “I told you, didn’t I? You never asked,” he grabbed the tea and started to pour it. It was green: earthy in scent. “Also it seemed like a bad idea to me.”

“Why?”

“I thought about mentioning it, but I decided not to when that horse of yours died. What was his name? _Mister Caramel?”_

Link could only hope there was some sort of logic that would tie the two subjects together. He blinked, unable to connect the dots himself.

“Doesn’t matter,” a hand waved. “Point is, that animal died of old age and for _four years_ you were convinced that it was because you ate the last carrot in the house no matter what I told you.”

More silence. 

“You see what I mean?”

Still, no response.

His father sighed loudly, remarking, “You’re the type who feels guilty about stuff that has _nothing_ to do with you, so I could only imagine what you’d get in your head if I risked explaining what happened. I was right, too. I can see it even now in that pissy glare of yours.”

Link sat back in his chair, crossing his arms.

“What?” the man goaded. “Let me guess, you spent all this time wondering if I hate you or something?” That pissy glare sharpened, and his father laughed only to mutter into his cup, “Don’t be _stupid,_ kid.”

With that, he took a swig of his tea.

Don’t be daft. Don’t be foolish. Don’t be stupid. 

The words would stick to him, yet fail to take root time and time again.

“It doesn’t make sense,” Link finally spoke, his face relaxing into something contemplative. “I figured it might’ve been why you were always distant.”

It was a question. They both were well aware of that, and yet his father did not answer. The look on his face indicated he was lost in thought with eyes locked onto his hands. They were always battered. Scarred: rougher than Link’s had ever been. His fingers were bent slightly- warped in ways that indicated they’d been broken repeatedly and never set properly.

“I thought Rhoam might’ve been a part of it,” he elaborated, probing for some sort of response. “You said you didn’t want me to end up like her.”

Link was finally asking questions, and although it disgruntled the man, he seemed to accept that it was time to explain himself. “...Maybe. But I was letting you run around before that girl was sent off to her abbey.”

His father lifted a hand, spreading his fingers for him to see. “Do you want to know where Rhoam got that ridiculous story from? That you trained until your hands bled day and night?”

His change in tone left him unsettled. The shadows on his father’s face seemed to grow thicker- unwanted memories resurfacing. His hand fell back to the table with a thud, and he took another sip of his tea as if it was a shot of alcohol. Maybe he wished it was.

“For centuries, the boys in our family have been bred to outdo their fathers.” A smirk spread across his face. “But you didn’t even have to try, did you?”

It was ironic, he’d say.

According to him, Link’s grandfather was a cruel man. Tardiness, complaints, or fumbling grips would be punished with cracks of a blunted sword. They were from a line of country knights obsessed with glory, and would strive for it at the cost of childhoods and individuality.

“You were already a weird kid, and I wanted to break that cycle, so I thought I’d let you do as you please- decide how you wanted to be raised yourself.”

As Link had thought in the desert, it was a gift, wasn’t it? A deluded one.

“And me,” he huffed, exasperated with himself, “I didn’t know how parenting worked. I winged it like everything. Still am.”

There was regret in his features. Two years ago, Link had seen it in his face when his father had stared at the fire dying in their backyard: a glorified sword laying amidst those embers and his son standing over it looking distraught and defeated. It was everything his grandfather would have wanted, and it was everything Link’s own father vehemently despised.

It was a mistake, he would tell him. He should have been more present. He should have told him to wait before becoming a knight despite how much he begged and pleaded to enter that tourney.

In a twisted turn of events, his father’s desperate attempts to relieve his son of expectations only resulted in him being burdened with far too much of it.

Fate couldn’t be thwarted, could it?

It was his father’s turn to run a hand through his short hair and grumble curses.

“I’m _sorry,”_ he breathed. “It’s my fault.”

Blame was held in too many people and in too many bad decisions over the years. As a result, all Link could do was shake his head and tell him it was fine. Despite everything, that sword had filled a need in him that a normal life never could, and although it was something he doubted his father would ever understand, he’d nod, shrug, and once again remark that he was a weird kid before pouring another glass of tea- this time in more than one cup.

It was hours before they were done talking. They would speak of Link’s travels, the growing dissent within the church regarding Zelda’s powers, and the upcoming reunion of the Champions and Hyrule’s most influential aristocrats. There was Hateno: his father’s hometown. Kakariko: his mother’s birthplace.

Several things he had to say about the woman stuck out to Link. First, that she was a phantom with little to offer other than her presence. Second, she possessed a brutal honesty to match her husband’s. And third, she had an intense fear of the night- unusual and laughable for a Sheikah. Thus, with his father’s love of warmth and firelight, she was always somewhere close to him whenever darkness fell in the streets of Castle Town.

In the end, his father had one last query before he would let his son shuffle off to bed.

“You and that girl get along better now, don’t you?”

He nodded, his cheek squashed in the palm of his right hand and a cup of tea swirling in his left. “We got bored of being mean to each other.”

The man snorted, but regarded Link with a peculiar stare. It was something knowing- an expression only parents seemed capable of making. It made him squirm. 

“I don’t like it,” he eventually stated.

“That we don’t hate each other?” Link was incredulous. Most people agreed that was a good thing. Even Impa.

“Not that,” the man drawled. His tone was layered with meaning- as if he was asking a toddler whether or not they’d stuck their hand in a cookie jar despite the chocolate already smeared on their face. “I don’t like the way you look at each other.”

His mind was blank. There were no rebuttals or responses that he could think of, even as his father stood and roughly patted his shoulder. 

“I know you swore to die for the princess and all that shit, but try not to get yourself executed because you might get the urge to feel her up, yeah?”

 _Too little too late,_ he thought dryly. 

  


* * *

  


Blood was seeping down his arm.

The gash was deep: deeper than the cut he’d received on Death Mountain. Link stared at it, watching it stain his sleeve- the wound so fresh pain had yet to fully set in. His eyes were wide, empty, and distant.

“...Uhh,” a feminine voice sounded from behind him, hesitant and confused. Link glanced to his left to see Sagessa staring at him from her bench. “Are you gonna take care of that, bud?”

Some embarrassment crept up on him, and he looked to the cause of his latest hideous injury.

The Master Sword was stuck into the side of Dueling Peaks Stable. Link had been absentmindedly twirling it into the air as he waited for Beedle to arrive, and, in an exceptionally rare turn of events, he’d been distracted by a bird, failed to catch the weapon properly, and nearly sliced off his own arm.

That sword was, after all, probably the sharpest object in existence.

Link was shaking his arm. Although it was nearly to the bone, it’d failed to cut anything that would truly impair him. That was good, but he wasn’t sure how he could stop the bleeding; he was already feeling a little faint.

Before he could flip through his Slate to see what he could dredge out to help, Sagessa was rummaging around in her own pack.

“You’re paying me for these,” the girl insisted, and dumped several elixirs onto the bench. Three red elixirs and a bucket of water later, she was wincing at the wound as she awkwardly helped wrap a bandage around his arm. 

They were acquaintances, but it was still odd to be within a five foot distance from her.

“Are you dumb?” was her blunt question.

“I forgot it could cut me,” he said.

“Gotcha,” her tone was exaggerated. Sarcastic. “Not dumb, _delusional.”_

Link had no retort to that. 

When she was finished, she demanded fifty rupees- a bargain- and left him to inspect his arm. The elixirs were enough to stop the bleeding, but he was certain it’d take weeks to heal even with their help.

He scowled, yanked his sword out from the wooden pillars, and collapsed back onto the dirt. Beedle was late, but it may have been a blessing in disguise.

Something had occurred to Link, after all.

_‘Are you dumb?’_

It was similar to a question he’d hissed at Zelda. She’d had no retort back then, either, and unlike him there hadn’t been a hint of shame or regret on her face.

If there was one thing Link would stand by it was that of the two of them, he certainly wasn’t the crazy one.

He made sure to tell Zelda that much when he was alone in the woods an hour later, and he was certain he heard her soft laughter drift through the swaying canopies above. 

  


* * *

  


The workers at Hyrule Castle all had the same complaint:

His Majesty would never announce his arrival. 

It wasn’t the result of forgetfulness. Just as it was in the training camps four years ago, he’d always preferred to catch his subjects unaware- to catch a glimpse of one regulation or another duty they may be shirking when he wasn’t around.

As such, Link and King Rhoam exchanged quite a flabbergasted look when they both rounded a corner- a baked apple stuffed in his own mouth as the large man stared down his nose at him. He’d choked when he shot down to one knee: trying to hide the fact that he nearly spit food in the King of Hyrule’s face. The guards behind Rhoam exchanged a pair of mocking grins. 

Hylia’s Champion getting caught with so much food in his mouth he looked like a chipmunk? Amusing.

Even the king found it funny. There was a chuckle overhead as the man told him to get up and wipe his face.

Link stood straight, putting his hands behind his back as Rhoam inquired, “My daughter. Where is she?”

“Her Highness should be on her way to her afternoon prayers, Your Majesty.”

“...I assume you were on your way, as well?”

“Yes, Your Majesty. I was on break.”

Thankfully, the princess was doing as she was supposed to. By the time they reached the sanctuary, she was already kneeling before a small gilded statue: hands clasped together and head bathed in waxy colors from the overhead windows.

Zelda’s current guard slipped out of view, allowing Link to take his place.

“Hello, my dear,” Rhoam’s voice had weight to it- an ever present rumble that would make any who heard it flinch if they weren’t prepared.

Zelda’s head twisted, her mouth parted. She gathered her skirts and stood to bow her head.

“It’s wonderful to see you, father.” Her tone was utterly lacking in warmth.

King Rhoam didn’t hesitate to begin the prelude of an interrogation that was sure to come. “I hear you have been back for several days.”

“Yes, father. Ser Landon escorted us home from the Spring of Power.”

A hand was stroking his beard. Zelda could already tell he was waiting for an explanation. She stepped forward, wringing her hands together.

“I confess I was overeager to visit the springs,” the princess bowed her head again, apologetic. “I sincerely regret any trouble I caused due to my early departure.”

His hand stilled.

The way the king moved always seemed far too controlled to Link. Not one step, blink, or word was uttered without purpose. Though, every so often little gestures of affection or words of fair tenor would slip through that equable stoicism of his for his daughter. Yet they were so few that he could never determine whether they were intentional or not.

Was Zelda a weakness or an object to be controlled?

Both were equal in their likelihood.

That question made his behavior all the more interesting, especially when he stepped forward and put a hand on his daughter’s shoulder, speaking affably.

“Fret not, Lady Impa has already explained everything to me. I see now that I was doing you no favors burdening you with so much.”

His hand slipped away, along with his amiable nature. The man walked past Zelda, coming to a stop next to the idol she’d prayed to. And for a moment, he reached out: straightening the silk fabric hanging off its pedestal.

“She told me that you feared you weren’t making much progress within those Beasts, and I believe you to have made the right decision,” he glanced her way, looking down over his shoulder. “Choosing to abandon them, that is.”

The princess should have been relieved, but she only looked disturbed by his leniency- eyes wide and eyebrows ever so slightly knitting together. 

Rhoam puffed out his chest, smiling beneath his beard. “In all honesty, I think the idea that those machines are as holy as our springs is _preposterous._ It is good to know that you have the same instinct.”

“...Yes,” Zelda agreed quietly. Refuting that assumption of his was unwise. It would beg too many questions, require too many risky answers.

“Your decision has helped me make one of my own,” the man ruminated on his words, as if assuring himself it was the correct path. He chuckled again, lighthearted and unconcerned. “Regardless, welcome home, my dear. We will discuss the particulars of your trip in the sanctum, as I am sure I have intruded on your tasks long enough.”

Doors would slam shut: an echo loud enough that Link feared the glass around them would shatter. He breathed, a weight lifting, but the tension in that room still lingered. Zelda was watching that door as if she expected it to swing off its hinges at any moment.

“What are you going to tell him?” Link asked, trying to pull her from her stupor.

“The truth… that I have nothing.”

 _‘It is what it is,’_ was the answer in her eyes.

With that, she returned to her prayers, and Link would stare at the intricate, patterned glass framing the walls. He did, of course, take note of the hateful glare she would direct at Hylia’s visage before she lowered her head and whispered words of empty praise.

Even Rhoam’s daughter was not spared of his sly behavior. He would catch her unaware, just as he did everyone else.

Thus, the irony of it all was clear as day in hindsight- the reality that he’d also been caught unaware by a monster lurking and festering just beneath his feet. Link would often wonder if he’d been sitting on that throne of his when it seeped out of the sanctum floor. He wondered if it curled over him: dripping malice onto both him and his shining throne.

Was that the last thing he saw?

Perhaps that was why Link always felt such unease in that castle. For years, he’d stood on the ramparts during his night shifts, feeling as though something was out there- watching, waiting, and approaching. Not once as he stared out into the darkness beyond Hyrule Castle did it occur to him that he should have been looking over his shoulder, or beneath his feet.

Zelda herself would be looking below hours later, eyes following the train of carriages entering the castle gates. They were yet another surprise laid out by her father. One could even call it a trap.

“The clergy,” she whispered when Link joined her at the edge of the bridge. Her next words were a whimper as she turned to cover her face with her hands. “Oh _no.”_

He shared her worry. Rhoam was as lenient as Link’s own father compared to that lot. He remembered they appeared mere hours to pick him apart after the king announced his success in drawing the sword, and it seemed they were just as keen to hear the results of Zelda’s newest pilgrimage.

Nosy, that’s what Link thought of them. Pesky as well, what with Hyrule’s church and government being so intricately intertwined.

It was all too complicated for him. Boring, really.

“I’m going to have to speak with all of them in the sanctum.”

“How soon, you think?”

Zelda went to open her mouth, but a knight poked his head up from a ladder. “His Majesty-”

“-Requests my presence,” she whimpered yet again. Even that guard wilted at her pathetic tone, and quickly shuffled back down the ladder. 

Her steps were hesitant, unsure of herself as they approached the sanctum’s entrance. A flood of wind swept over them when its doors opened, the air chilled and biting. 

It was an echelon of over thirty priests and priestesses that awaited them. Whatever their official titles were, Link had never bothered to remember. There wasn’t much point, anyway; the exaggerated headdresses and blinding white robes indicated they were essentially royalty in their own right- from noble descent.

They stood at the bottom, just beneath the throne Rhoam sat upon. When Zelda and Link came to a halt at the center, he got to one knee- his face slipping out of view while the princess would remain standing tall and squinting against the harsh light flooding in through the windows above.

Greetings were exchanged. Introductions made. It was one formality after another before Rhoam would address Link first.

“I must thank you, Champion.”

His tone indicated permission to raise his head. He did, taking in the satisfied expression on the king’s face.

“I have heard from the Gerudo Chieftess that you saved my daughter’s life,” he continued, fingers drumming across the handles of his seat. He was amused when he asked, “Tell me, is it true that you severed the limb of one of those traitors with that sword?”

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

A grin spread across his face: delighted and malevolent at the same time. “You have gone above and beyond. Both Hyrule and I thank you for your excellent service.”

The king promised to reward him, prompting Link’s eyes to narrow imperceptibly from a distance. That man’s attitude had completely flipped over the last two years, and although it was jarring, it may have been understandable.

He’d truly gone above and beyond, hadn't he? Fortresses had nothing but praise, monsters were a trivial threat beneath his blade, and best of all, the Yiga feared him.

To Rhoam, the nightmare that was Link’s transgressions was well worth wading through. His lie had paid off. The Champion before him would ease his fears and feed into his deep rooted desire for revenge against those who raised a hand against his family.

He was everything Rhoam dreamed of and more.

A moment later and he was staring at the floor again, ignoring the irritation prickling in his chest.

With a deep breath, King Rhoam would begin his interrogation in earnest.

“Well, daughter, have you made progress?” His words sounded relaxed enough. Maybe there was even hope lacing them together, but Link could hear clearly the undercurrent of disappointment. Dread.

Zelda took a deep breath as well. Her voice would carry, shameful and honest.

“I am sorry, father. I have yet to receive the Goddess’ blessings.”

There was an exasperated murmur that broke out from those chantry folk. Rhoam’s sigh could be heard over their chatter.

“Be quiet.”

They did as he said, albeit reluctantly.

“Your Majesty,” a woman dared to speak despite his order. “Perhaps it is time to consider the possibility that she has not inherited Hylia’s blood.”

“It may have skipped another generation,” one older man suggested. “Bloodlines are often fickle things.”

Another scoffed loudly. “The blood of the Goddess is not so fickle.”

It has remained steady for thousands of years, he would debate. Passing from one grandmother to another granddaughter: unfaltering in its pattern.

His opponent denied that claim. “For those thousands of years you speak of, not once has a descendant failed to discover their powers past the age of six. Which is more likely to you? Will you not be convinced until another decade passes?”

Their arguing rose. Link could see the group’s reflection in the marble- Rhoam’s hand was dragging over his face, and arms were being swept in frustrated gestures by the men and women below.

“Be quiet!” the king snapped again, standing.

The same woman from before would persist. Her tone reminded him of Urbosa’s: confident, level, and knowledgeable. But it was lacking in anything gentle or motherly.

“...Your Majesty, I believe my peers to have a point. It may have skipped another generation.” There was a pause- a dramatic silence before she finally stated her point. “With the Calamity fast approaching, I would suggest we have her marry as soon as she is of age.”

Thankfully, Rhoam shot down that proposal immediately.

“Absolutely _not._ I will not have my daughter pawned off at the whim of this court.”

The finality in his tone cast silence across the group, though it wouldn't last long. 

Out of the quiet came sympathizers.

One after the other would agree, they would back up the woman’s proposal, and push the king for his consideration. Voices were rising again, reverberating off the sanctum’s walls. The noise was too loud. It made his head hurt, and Link did everything he could to try and drown out the noise or hide away in his thoughts.

His jaw was tensing. In the floor's reflection, he could see the imperial guardsmen shifting uncomfortably- including Link’s own father. They were all men who had watched Zelda and him grow up; no doubt the suggestion would bother them as well.

A quick glance to the side revealed that Zelda’s hands were fisted in her skirts. White knuckles. Shaking. Nails tearing into fabric.

Whatever look was on her face, he couldn’t have begun to guess. Whether it was fear, anger, or a well-masked blank stare, he didn’t know. Link wasn’t sure he wanted to know. What good would it do?

He was powerless in this, and so was the princess.

That’s why he hated the castle, wasn’t it? It would strip them of choices, of individuality, and of peace of mind.

All Link could do was shut his eyes tightly and wallow in his hate.

It was at that moment that another noise carried through the shouting. It was loud and sharp. It was of metal scraping, and it did well to startle many of them into silence. At the same time, Link felt a pull- something being tugged away from his back before his head jerked upright. His sword was in Zelda’s hand as she walked forward, dragging its tip across the floor- the sound like nails across a chalkboard.

The princess drew that blade high, lifting her other arm. Her father was shouting something, alarmed- confused. Several of the visitors stepped back as if they were frightened of what she planned to use it for, or on.

Horror gripping him, Link shot to his feet to stop her from whatever she was about to do, but it was far too late. His sword was a blur when Zelda slashed at her own limb with as much force as she could muster. She dragged her arm when it made contact- raking metal across her skin in a direction that was sure to saw straight through bone.

However, when she swept that blade to the side, not a single splatter of blood flew on the marble.

She presented her arm to the congregation before her, shouting furiously:

_“Hylia’s blood is within me!”_

The sleeve of her clothing was hanging loose- cut by the blade. Somehow, her skin was unmarred. Untouched.

As if to further convince them, the girl thrust his sword into the marble before her. It sliced through that stone effortlessly, remaining upright at her feet.

“It is dormant, but it is _there,”_ she seethed at her father. “This blade recognizes that truth! None can hold it aside from me and our Champion, and none can escape its touch unharmed _but_ me.”

She placed a hand on her chest, her tone pleading. “I beg you, father, _believe_ me. Allow me to ascend to the Spring of Wisdom as soon as I come of age! I am sure... I am sure I will succeed there!”

Her other hand was clenched at her side again, trembling. Rhoam’s hands were clasped on the railings in front of his throne. He was leaning over it- and while half his face was hidden by his beard, the shock at her outburst was still easily read.

Eventually, he leaned back, fingers sliding off that railing. He was motionless as he evaluated the princess before him, the two of them still as death. The set of his shoulders told Link that Rhoam had already made a decision, but surprisingly, his eyes slid towards him.

“I am curious, what do you say to this?”

Zelda turned to him abruptly, hair swaying. There was vulnerability there on her face; it was the same look she’d given him outside that spring before he’d kissed her: hopeful, expectant, and fearful all at once.

Link didn’t have to think about it at all.

Slowly, he looked to Rhoam and raised his voice in that sanctum for the first time in his life:

“I have faith in your daughter, Your Majesty, and I advise you to do the same.”

Polite as it was, Link’s response was still blunt and chiding in nature. He fully expected his tone to incite anger, but the king chose to heed his words without reprimand. 

Despite everything, he suspected that underneath all those velvets, gaudy colors, and ridiculous beard were good intentions and a good heart.

And, despite his strictness, he was protective of his daughter.

“...You two have become quite the pair, haven’t you?”

It seemed rhetorical, and so they stood side by side: wordless and unwavering. Whatever the meaning behind those words was, he doubted many in attendance knew.

The princess’ victory would not come without a price.

The man pointed at his daughter, callous and insistent as he gave his decree, “I will allow you to stay within these walls until the Spring, Zelda. However, from this point forth I am relieving you of your courtly responsibilities. You are to dedicate every moment of your time to your training, and _nothing_ else.”

The girl swallowed, knowing full well what was coming next.

“Know that I have been merciful thus far, but until you show results, I will no longer permit you to interact with Sheikah _or_ their slate again.” His words were slow and threatening as he demanded, “Is that _clear?”_

Zelda closed her eyes, pained, and said, “Yes, father, I understand.”

 _“And to you lot, is that agreed?!”_ He roared to the men and women below.

All bowed their heads, relenting and obedient as they chanted:

“Yes, Your Majesty.” 

  


* * *

  


It was fifteen minutes later that Link closed the door to Zelda’s room and snapped:

_“Are you insane?!”_

The princess was in a daze, breathing with disbelief, “Goddess, I can’t believe that worked.”

“Zelda!”

She looked at him, frowning. “What?”

He grabbed her arm and wiggled it. “This! Did you know it wouldn’t hurt you?”

Her gaze was tethered to the wall. She wouldn’t look at him. “...No, it was instinct, I suppose. Blind faith.” His snarl made her tear her arm out of his hand. _“Now_ you’re upset about it? You might think I didn’t notice, but I saw you smiling while I was yelling at him.”

“I was?” he blinked, taken aback.

“Yes!” she crossed her arms. “You seemed to be enjoying yourself.”

A hand was covering his mouth. No wonder Rhoam had given him that awful side-eye. His hand moved to cover his eyes as he begged, “It doesn’t matter. Just… don’t do something like that again- I think you took ten years off my life.”

“Oh, why complain? I doubt someone as wild as you is going to live particularly long anyhow.”

Two fingers parted so he could glare at her, but her toothy grin made him melt and wave it off before he could even come up with a rebuttal. His shoulders sagged as the girl’s smile softened into something heartfelt.

Without warning, Zelda moved forward to hug him tightly, burying her face into his shoulder.

“Thank you, Link... for what you said,” her voice possessed a slight tremor as she went on. “It meant a lot to me. _Truly.”_

He closed his eyes with his own smile, putting a hand on her head as he returned the embrace. “Don’t thank me. I was just being honest.”

She sighed contentedly- relief overtaking her. Link felt the same, although he was certain the terror he’d felt in that sanctum would stick with him for quite some time. Marriage. He hated the idea. Loathed it. But thanks to her, he wouldn’t have to worry about that for a little longer.

Pulling away, Zelda looked at her cut sleeve and directed him, “Wait outside for a moment, will you?”

A mere five minutes later and the door opened, a hand swiping Link back into her room before he could even turn around. Stumbling, he noticed that instead of that stuffy dress of hers, she was standing in travel clothes.

“Now,” she said, roughly fastening gloves into place, “I saw Reed while you were on break, and I have an idea brewing in my head that requires me to lift a flute or two from him. Would you care to assist me?”

 _“Yes,”_ was his immediate answer.

The girl walked over to her desk to snatch up the Slate she’d been forbidden to lay hands on. There was a wild look in her eye as she turned to him, tapping her finger against its screen.

“I think I can get my Guardian in the caves to react to music, you see.”

The grin on her face was devilish as the object flashed blue, and it made him realize she never had any intention of listening to a single word Rhoam said from the beginning. Hyrule’s princess would be too much like her father for her own good: willful, tricky, and full of surprises.

“Shall we?”

Zelda extended a hand. Link stared at that gesture, evaluating and deciding what he would do with it.

In the end, he didn’t have to think about it at all.

Recklessness was always a better friend to him than sensibility or caution ever were, after all, and as he allowed the princess to lead him in straight into trouble, Link had a feeling she was discovering the same.


	18. Catching Flame

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. FINALLY I've gotten this edited. Thanks for your patience guys! Classes weren't even to blame too much here. I got possessed by the urge to go back and edit / add to older chapters for a solid 3-4 days.  
> 2\. Remember that quest where you find 300 rupees in the ocean and Kass claims it belonged to a hero? I've decided it's Link's.  
> 3\. The pain is starting, get ready.

“Thank you for escorting me all this way.”

Link watched as Symin jumped off the small ledge- into a pool of water below. A quiet nod was his response before turning to look back into the tunnel before them. There was nothing but a cold breeze pushing at their backs- drifting further into the darkness.

While Symin showed no trepidation, Link hesitated to cross the threshold into that room. His eyes traveled down from the faint blue etchings to the bed of slate beneath it.

It felt like he was looking at an open casket. His own upturned grave.

He sucked in a sharp breath and walked after Symin. 

The man already had Link’s borrowed Slate: snapping it into the pedestal with a flash of light. Symin’s hands moved, guiding those rotating sections. None of it made much sense to him- neither the patterns nor the connecting threads of blue.

Upon retrieving the device again, there was a contemplative frown that appeared on his face. 

“...Well, it’s as we thought.”

Link titled his head in question. 

His Sheikah companion swept his gaze across the strange, foggy room. “...There’s more here. Something else hidden in this space. However, there are parameters put in place that prevent unauthorized access. Whatever the administrator is, it’s unclear, as well.”

All he could do was blink. While Link understood more of that than he predicted, the man’s reasoning still escaped him.

Symin cleared his throat to explain in simpler terms, “When I return this Slate to that pedestal, there are signs which suggest it is capable of opening more than the door we entered through. It has the ability to open something else, but we are locked out.”

The man shrugged, looking exasperated, “There is a larger structure to be found here, yet we are merely stranded on its doorstep.”

“This room is a piece of a large building.”

“Precisely.”

Link mirrored Symin’s frown. “...But there aren’t any more doors.”

“Hence our confusion. It appears to be a dead end.”

Link waited, expectant. The man didn’t say anything further.

He broke the awkward silence, lost, “What do we do now?”

Another shrug. “Nothing, really. It’s possible there are more entryways buried within this Plateau, but what can we do? We no longer have the ability to excavate like the Sheikah of old.”

“This was a wasted trip then.”

“...Well- yes and no. Ms. Director wanted me to evaluate if there was any power left for that bed to operate.”

Link waited. Again.

“And?” he eventually prompted, “Is there?”

“There is a little,” he let out some sort of nervous hum. “But it is as our director feared. The Zora princess’ blessing only lasted for one use.”

Link’s eyes moved to the floor- his head turned from the torchlight. “...In other words, if I fail again, we won’t have another chance.”

“...Yes,” was his reluctant answer.

It was his turn to sigh. 

They would depart with nothing. But Link would have more questions before they trudged out of that tunnel, his torch lighting up Symin’s curious face as he moved to face him. “What did Mipha have to do with it?”

“Hmm… from what I know, her powers were compatible with that water. I believe Ms. Director mentioned that both princesses were responsible for getting it to function at its full potential,” Symin spoke all too lightly, as if it wasn’t anything particularly important. “Without their combined efforts, you wouldn’t have been able to be brought back from the dead.”

That concerned him. “...But I wasn’t dead. I was told I was injured badly, is all.”

That prompted his eyebrows to raise. _“Goddess,_ no. There was nothing left of you- I was told you were a corpse before you even left that burning field.”

Link stood there, wide eyed and empty as his torch crackled loudly in his ear.

A burning field? A corpse?

“What- what happened to me?”

“...I don't know the exact cause. You don’t remember any of it?”

When he shook his head it was a small movement: quick and concerned. His hand grazed his torso- across the rough fabric of his Hylian tunic. He thought of the scars snaking across his skin, the bruises that seemed permanent.

“Do you even remember when the Calamity came?”

Link shut his eyes, thinking. 

“No… I remember running somewhere. That’s all.”

And oh, how he hated that memory. The green mist. The thunder overhead. That tone of voice which she screamed in. Grating in his ears. Making his skin crawl as lights bounced through the tree line- growing ever closer, closer, closer-

The look on his face was pitying. “In due time, I suppose.”

His face twisted into a scowl, and Symin recoiled a bit. Link walked off, not bothering to explain himself. Due time? Enough of it had been wasted already. 

“...It isn’t _necessary,_ Zelda,” he ground out. He didn’t want to know. Not anymore. “I don’t need to remember.”

Her light still flickered on the horizon, bright and piercing in the blackness of night. Symin stood on the edge of that cliff next to him, marvelling at it. When Link turned to speak to- to apologize to the Sheikah for his foul mood- it wasn’t him standing there.

It was King Rhoam, speaking down to him, all his warm colors a pillar of flame against the glare of a setting sun.

_“This is your reward.”_

Link backpedaled, gasping, and the world tipped on its axis as gravity overtook him. Symin reached out, horrified as he stumbled over the cliff edge. The man only grazed the ends of his hood, and tore the light fabric from his shoulders. His torch slipped from his fingertips. Wind rushed in his ears.

One moment of weakness was all it took for him to plummet into the forest below, and Link couldn’t help but think it was all too typical of him.

 _“Why?”_ he’d said, furtive and frightened. _“After everything I’ve done?”_

 _“Because you have risen above it,”_ Rhoam had moved into the shadow alongside him, sweeping his arm out into the light as if it was beckoning- a gift, a temptation. _“I follow my instincts, just as you do.”_

When he opened his eyes again, it wasn’t to broken branches or leaves swaying overhead. 

It was to a frog being shoved in his face.

It was _slimy._

He leaned away from it, a hand flat in the grass as he tried to dodge yet another swipe of that amphibian. She yelled at him for it. Link merely shook his head rapidly. There were very little of her requests he would refuse to grant, and this was one of them.

“Just one lick!” she insisted. “I’ll lick it if you do!”

“Don’t say something like that!” he snapped. “You’re disgusting.”

Zelda drew her frog to her chest, looking offended. Though, it turned out she was more affronted by his lack of dedication to proper science. “Just listen, will you?! We already know elixirs have incredibly strong effects on you- can’t you imagine the uses if all you needed was a taste?”

Link was on his feet now, a hand up in defense. “I’d rather eat rocks.”

“Which you have,” she argued, standing. “Consider this... part of a reputation to maintain?”

His waspish stare was answer enough to that.

The princess stamped her foot. “Fine. What would you like?”

“I’m not bargaining.”

She was pacing around him with narrowed eyes yet again. The frog still seemed perfectly content to sit in the palm of her hands, blinking idly. It shocked him: the way she placed that amphibian on her head as if it was some sort of tiara. Zelda always had a way with odd, cold-blooded creatures, but it was all starting to seem a little unnatural to him.

All he could do was gape, even as she crossed her arms and proposed: 

“I’ll convince my father to let us visit Mabe’s ranch…” she leaned in, marveling at her own words, “I hear they’ve had many, many precious foals born this Spring. According to our horse master, there is even a new blood bay! She has the most unique pale mane for her breed- it practically glows! Like moonlight, he said.”

The conflict in him was clear as day. Taking the opportunity, Zelda cooed, “She’s a glutton for carrots, too.”

His hands were on his face.

“Just one taste,” she was a devil on his shoulder, whispering sweet nothings. “One small test, Link, and we can spend the whole day there.” The princess gasped, feigning innocence as she inquired, “Perhaps they’ll even let you name one?”

And just like that, he had a frog in his hands.

Link tried desperately to spit the taste out of his mouth as Zelda rattled off her questions. In the end, it was pointless. He didn’t feel a thing except for regret, and she spared a mere thirty seconds to lament their results before getting distracted by something else.

The girl dug up the silent princess she had cradled mere minutes ago- carefully uprooting the plant and placing it within a bottle as if it was a vase.

“I want to try my hand at growing it,” was her meek explanation. “...My mother was very good with them, from what I’ve been told.”

They departed from that hill soon after, returning to the castle for her evening prayers. It was her routine for the last six months: praying until her knees were sore and bruised. Morning, noon, and night; Fasting, meditating, and losing herself in droning sermons- the keys of an organ reverberating through their empty skulls.

(It was filled with stolen moments that kept the both of them from drowning in the monotony of it all: lingering, risky touches or kisses in hidden spaces- or even narrow escapes into caverns below the castle, to somewhere dark, untouched by the blinding light of the Springtime’s clear skies. Or, into her sanctuary of gears, cogs, and slate. 

Late nights were often spent there, and by the time the seasons had changed, Link suspected he knew more about Guardians than the average researcher thanks to all her avid lessons.)

Zelda parted from him upon reaching the upper wings.

The aging captain of the imperial guard would always borrow him in the evening. Only two months after their return, King Rhoam decided to add yet another person for Link to shadow. It seemed natural; he’d been promoted to the status of an imperial guard and sent off alongside Zelda before receiving proper training. Besides simple guard duty, the details of an imperial knight’s duties eluded him despite being raised by one.

Thus, he’d watch on as the man drafted soldiers, assigned charges, and selected new talent to add to their ranks.

“Slaying monsters. Guarding nobles,” he muttered one morning as they eyed their passing rank and file of men from above the castle gates. “We oversee both.”

It was later- five weeks before Zelda’s coming of age, that Link sat alone in the man’s office. He read over open scrolls of maps strewn across his mahogany desk; they were points of origin for monster hoards or other things like common routes taken by nobles traveling to the Great Plateau.

They would arrive there for the celebration, after all. Nearly one hundred of them; there was plenty to prepare for.

The door creaked open. Link didn’t bother looking up from the desk, scribbling notes across the parchment. He yawned, asking, “Did Farland make it to the Hinox on the hill-”

Red in his peripheral. White furs.

His head snapped to the left- coming face to face with King Rhoam. The man had snuck up on him yet again, and Link narrowly avoided cursing in front of him.

A hand raised before he could even manage a greeting, “At ease, boy.”

Link glanced away. His captain was nowhere to be found. 

“...Are you looking for Captain Orwell, Your Majesty?”

He hummed, lofty. “I came to see how you were getting on.”

The king was expecting a report, and so he gave one: explaining the routes he’d suggested, the tasks he’d completed through Orwell’s command. Rhoam stroked his beard, nodding approvingly as he finished.

“He told me you were a quick study, but you exceeded my expectations,” he chuckled, “Well done.”

His head bowed slightly, an obligatory thank you. What Rhoam said next made him freeze before he could even lift his face.

“At this rate, he’ll be able to retire early.”

Slowly, Link rose, concerned. “...I’m sorry, Your Majesty, I don’t understand what you mean.”

His hand waved. “You couldn’t. I made the decision only recently, after all,” there was genuine respect in his eyes as he continued, “After forty years of excellent service, I am allowing our captain to retire to his meadows in the South. He has grandchildren to look after, and has done nothing but gripe that it is time for me to release him from my clutches.”

Rhoam was laughing. It was weird.

“Is Farland replacing him, Your Majesty?”

(Somehow, speaking with the king had become a little easier. The incident in the sanctum had a lingering effect on both him and Zelda: the two of them more bold, outspoken, and undaunted. Rhoam didn’t seem to mind, strangely, and regarded Link with an amiable gaze each time he bothered asking a question.)

His head shook. “His retirement is on the horizon, as well.”

“...My... father?”

The man laughed even louder at that. “He would drink himself to death within a week.”

Oh, he would.

It made sense; leadership was far from his father’s talents, anyhow. Though despite his attempts, he couldn’t dredge up anyone else with enough experience or authority to take up the role. There was a question in Link’s silence, and upon seeing his perplexed frown, Rhoam finally revealed what he was scheming- looking confident as he did so: 

“You shall replace him, my boy.”

His mouth opened and closed. “I- Your Majesty-” he stammered, “why _me?”_

He’d lost his mind, Link was sure.

The king merely shrugged. “None would suit the position better than you.”

Perfect conduct within castle walls, he would cite. A brilliant grasp of strategy, an eye for proper talent, unmatchable strength- the ability to retain a rapport with his fellow soldiers despite his higher status. The list of talents and traits he rattled off felt alien to Link.

Never had he thought of himself in that light.

Yet, there would be no room for debate. Rhoam’s voice had a strict finality to it when he momentarily placed a hand on his shoulder and stated:

“I am proud of what you have achieved, and I have the utmost confidence you will ascend to this new role with ease, as you always have.”

With that, his hand slid away as the king waltzed off.

Surely, a year ago Link would have thrown a fit the moment that door closed. Books would tumble, papers would shred. Maybe even the desk would be missing a leg. But at that point, all he did was run a hand over his face, sigh, and untie another scroll. 

  


* * *

  


Revali would be the first of the Champions to arrive.

It was with flare, as one might expect.

Like a hawk swooping for prey, the Rito plummeted from the skies: carrying the force of a tornado with him as he crashed into the earth directly in front of Link. Castle workers startled. Some guards yelped at the dust kicked up from his sudden descent.

He didn’t bother to smooth his hair out as Revali straightened, his scarf still flowing in the wind. There was a pose. “Long time no see, _Hero_... You seem to have grown an inch or two. I’m impressed, truly.”

“Looks like your feathers finally grew back,” he praised, sidestepping the Rito. “I’m _impressed.”_

He could hear a faint scoff as Link began to trot down the courtyard’s stairways. Unfortunately, he could also hear the sound of talons clicking after him. “Where might our Royal Highness be?”

“Praying. Don’t bother her.”

“Bother? I would never.”

The look he sent that Rito was utterly withering, and his response was to squawk an insult or two of his own.

“I’m sure she would prefer _my_ company over your miserable brooding! You have the presence of a soggy mutt, has anyone told you?”

Link whirled around to jab a finger at him, snarling like one, “Anyone would take quiet over listening to _you_ get yourself off stroking your own ego all day!”

Less than twenty seconds after his fellow Champion’s arrival, the two of them were already squabbling in the middle of the courtyard.

A day later, Daruk came barreling through the gates: nearly running over Zelda as he shot up the ramps. Stopping to apologize had been a mistake, because Link discovered she’d dragged him straight into the kitchens- the princess interrogating Daruk for his knowledge on what goes into Goron Spice. She shook a threatening jar in his face as he stubbornly refused to disclose their secrets. It looked like paprika.

He seemed prideful, however. Maybe flattered by her insistence. 

“Would you tell me as a birthday gift?” she bargained. “I won’t tell anyone else, I swear to you!”

A head shook, “I’m sorry, princess. I’ll make you a good roast, but I’m not revealing us Gorons’ best kept secret. It’s about our family pride, you see?”

After catching sight of him in the doorway, Zelda demanded his help with convincing Daruk. Link simply ran off- the Goron laughing loudly when she chased after him down the hallway.

Third in the line was Urbosa. She sauntered onto the castle grounds under the cover of a stormy night, yet somehow managed to arrive with as much drama and flare as their Rito companion. Lightning flashed behind her and her Gerudo entourage as they stood upon the ramparts, hands on hips, looking out over the layered earth below with scrutiny.

Even in the darkness her eyes found them easily. The woman’s gaze locked onto Link and Zelda as they peered over the balcony of her room, a smirk pulling at her mouth, and began her ascent to the sanctum.

The walls of rain only dared to approach after she’d departed from her roost.

Even Rhoam left his precious throne to offer a warm welcome: arms spread wide, grinning as if she was an old friend. Perhaps they were to a degree.

Zelda was swept into her arms the moment they all exited the throne room- both of them whispering gleefully to each other. Urbosa was still cradling a mop of blonde hair against her chest when she glanced at Link.

Somehow, her voice was easy to hear above the rumble of thunder- and he could hardly believe he’d forgotten just how demanding that woman’s presence was after mere months.

“I bought gifts,” she purred, winking mischievously. “Our tailors have new dyes in, and I thought you would look _wonderful_ in white.”

Link rolled his eyes as Zelda made no attempt to disguise her giggling. 

Their final visitor was far more reserved.

Mipha was quiet. Distant. She stood there under the shelter of trees next to a waterway: staring past branches and leaves into the light that flickered from above. Her greeting to Zelda in the sanctum had been short, bordering on the edge of curt before she fled into the grassy spaces below.

Link stared, stuck somewhere between dissatisfaction, bitterness, and an acute tiredness.

They held each other’s gaze for a moment that was equally as short before she broke eye contact, lowering her face into shadow. The girl wouldn’t approach. She wouldn’t close the distance. Whether it was shame or an assumption that her presence was not wanted, it didn’t matter.

Breathing deep, Link walked the space to put a hand on her head- the motion causing jewels to sway a little roughly.

“I missed you,” he said with a smile, and all she managed to do was bite her lip and nod sharply. 

Their conversation would stretch hours. He told her of all the months between their last meeting- all the rapid changes Rhoam had inflicted upon him, and all the fear that came with it. Mipha would speak of her own troubles: the mysterious tasks Purah had planned for her on the Plateau, Sidon, the violent weather swirling around Lanaryu’s slopes, or the new, dreadful sensations she would experience every time she stepped foot in her own Divine Beast.

“The water is... denser than it should be,” was the best description she could offer, her hand trailing across a river flowing through the castle moats. “...Nothing like this.”

“Does it taste different?” his question had been serious, but she giggled into her hand.

“Yes, actually.” For the first time since her arrival, Mipha smiled. Briefly. “It is good to see that some things don’t change.”

“For better or worse,” he muttered.

“...For better,” she confirmed, quietly.

It was the night before they would depart for the Temple of Time that Link stood in Zelda’s room. Worry creased her forehead, including the papers in her hands. 

“You won’t be my guard anymore?”

It’d taken time for him to work up the courage to tell her. He didn’t want to believe it himself, and had been praying that Rhoam would take back his decision. It was pointless, he knew. Not once had the man ever wasted his time doing something like that.

He shook his head, somewhat fatigued. “I’ll be sworn in on the Plateau. He didn’t give me a choice.”

“You were bound to be assigned to something else eventually,” the girl sighed, weary, too. Though, she looked intrigued by something. “...Are you not angry that he’s forcing that responsibility on you?”

Strangely, he wasn’t. “...I’m not happy about it, but…” he shrugged, a little confused himself. “There’s no point in throwing a fit over it.”

“I’m impressed,” she teased a little, crossing her arms. “Do you think you’ll dislike the job?”

“No. It’s easy.” 

Rhoam had been correct. The tasks were all too easy for him. Boring, yet natural.

Admittedly, Link was partial to the idea. If anything- it may come with blessings of its own. He would travel here and there. He would fight monsters. He would busy himself with something other than sermons and prodding religious folk. However, the likelihood that he would see Zelda would plummet- and that was enough to make him loathe it regardless. 

He explained as much to her, to which she mused:

“It sounds like our last trip together will be to Lanayru, then.”

Her words were light, yet she was hiding away her research notes- and her disappointment- beneath her desk. The troubled layers in her tone instilled some sort of stubbornness in him.

Unknowing as it may be, Rhoam wouldn’t pry them apart on Link’s watch.

The sound he made was mirthful. “I get to decide the routes,” he waved a hand, grinning in a smug manner. “I’ll come up with plenty of excuses to follow you around.”

The princess smiled wide at that. “Good! Though, if I can unearth my powers within Lanayru, that may not be necessary... “ her voice grew quiet. Distant. “I’ll be allowed to return here as much as I want… Do as I please.”

Silence fell along with her gaze. She almost seemed to be fantasizing about what it may be like: returning home with good news for once in her life. With power in her hands.

“I’ll do it,” Zelda murmured, meeting his eyes. The sight of him appeared to instill some stubbornness in her as well because her words were severe- determined, “...I have to.” 

  


* * *

  


The two princesses sat on the back of an ornate wagon, legs hanging. Revali stood on the railing just behind them, wings crossed and eyes scanning the passing treeline.

“...Ten incoming,” he stated, and pointed sharply to Daruk. “It’s your turn.”

The Goron pointed to himself, put out. “Me? I just did the last one.”

“We’ve all done forty-five, and _you’ve_ only done thirty-eight,” he looked down at Urbosa- the woman settled on one of the benches. “I’d say that’s fair, wouldn't _you?”_

“I’d say you’re _lazy,”_ the woman drawled, examining her nails. Revali huffed at that.

Hoofbeats grew closer. Multiple sets. Faintly, Bokoblins screamed.

Link raised a hand from atop his horse. “I don’t mind doing it, Daruk.”

“No. I’d rather see you _bored,”_ Revali snipped.

His lip curled, and a derisive grin spread across that Rito’s face.

Urbosa’s tone was chiding, but rising with urgency. “You’d better decide quickly, boys. They’re almost here.”

“I have to admit, I’m feeling too hungry to work up the energy for it,” Daruk protested again. It was probably just to spite that bossy Rito.

Revali rolled his eyes. _“Oh, please._ It’s not my problem if you forgot to pack enough rocks.” He spread a wing out, gesturing to a cliff. “Look! There’s some over there! Why don’t you go munch on a few and then do your job?”

“Give it a rest. I’ll do it.” Link spoke before the Goron could counter Revali’s insults.

“No, you _won’t._ We’re splitting it evenly! We’ve still got sixteen hours left and I don’t want to give you another excuse to brag!”

“You’re just pissed I won the last three.”

“Is that what you think?” he hissed. “Maybe I’m just tired of listening to you gloat about _lucky_ wins. We _both_ know the only reason you catch up is because I run out of arrows.”

Those Bokoblins were now in sight, galloping around the forest to meet them. Weapons flailed in the air. Their cart’s driver looked back and forth between them: wide eyed and fearful at their blatant lack of concern.

“Right, thanks for reminding me!” Link bent over- leaning towards him to sneer, “I forgot you’re useless without your arrows. Here, everyone look away! We’ll give you some privacy so you can dig out the extra bundle you’re hiding up your _ass.”_

Someone snorted. It was Zelda.

 _“Oh, Goddess,”_ Mipha murmured, exasperated.

Revali’s beak snapped open to rebuke that, but Urbosa groaned loudly, raised her hand, and snapped her fingers. 

Lightning struck. The Bokoblins were nothing but roasted meat.

“You can put the rulers away now,” the woman waved a placating, mocking hand. “I assure you, you’re both very, very impressive.”

In a moment of solidarity, the two regarded Urbosa with a murderous stare. She merely cackled to the sky and went about inspecting her nails.

The roads to the Great Plateau were far more hazardous than usual. It wasn’t a surprise; all of Hyrule was seeing a sudden surge in monster activity. Orwell was retiring at the perfect time- their new workload would be Link’s problem after Lanayru, and he wasn’t sure if he was looking forward to exterminating thousands of monsters, or disturbed by the sudden change.

Unlike those roads, the Great Plateau was suspiciously calm.

The Sheikah were hiding somewhere, he was positive, yet there wasn’t a single mop of white hair to be seen. They all stood at the top of the Great Plateau’s ramp, equally as bothered by the peace and quiet.

Three silhouettes awaited them at the top of that ramp. Two stood, hands clasped behind their backs, and bowed in proper greeting. The third was far more interested in swiping through her Slate.

A hand reached up, snatched the back of that woman’s head, and forced her to bow as well.

 _“Gentle!”_ Purah complained to her sibling. “My scalp is _sensitive!”_

Purah, Robbie, and Impa. Having all three of those infamous Sheikah in one place? It was a bad sign. Very bad.

Impa ignored her sibling’s complaints and rose with a strained smile. “Welcome, Champions, Your Highnesses. I am pleased to see you’ve made it safely to our Plateau.”

None of them could manage a response before Robbie piped up, walking towards Link, “Cousin, if you would-”

“-I’m getting him first!” Purah interrupted.

“Cousin?” Urbosa and Revali’s voices could be heard as the Sheikah researchers began arguing- the two perking up with interest like rodents poking their heads out of a hole.

“Now, director,” the man admonished his superior as Impa grit her teeth, “we talked about this. You will be busy with our lovely Zora princess for the evening, won’t you?”

“Maybe they should all eat first before you kidnap anyone?” Impa interjected, looking completely exasperated.

“Duh,” Purah wagged her book at the other woman as if she was stupid. “We have food at camp, sis. They can munch while they work.”

Impa feinged understanding. “Ahh, of course! So, Her Royal Highness Mipha can ‘munch while she works’? How _thoughtful_ of you!”

“I was talking about Link,” the woman quickly retracted part of that statement. That merely prompted him to raise an eyebrow at her. She ignored it.

Revali cut off Link’s vision of Purah before he could remind her he wasn’t a slave. “Cousin? Did he just call you _cousin?”_

Urbosa loomed over him as well: poking at his cheek- maybe inspecting his hair to see if she could find a few white strands. “Well, boy?”

He backed away and nodded in reluctant admittance. His two interrogators launched into a line of questioning.

Impa’s hands clapped, sharp and loud to silence all of them.

The woman took a deep, deep breath: calming herself. She then said, gently, “I am going to escort the rest of our Champions and Her Highness to their quarters for the night. If either Hylia’s Champion or Her Highness Mipha wish to leave with you, they are free to do so.”

“I’m eager to see what you’re working on,” Revali raised a wing, finally giving up on his interrogation. “I would like to join you, if you wouldn’t mind.”

“Me too,” Daruk seconded that motion.

Robbie’s goggles snapped towards Purah. He pointed to the Rito. “I’m claiming him.”

Grumbling, Purah looked to Daruk. “You. Heavy things. Follow me,” she then addressed Link. “...Robbie can have you. _For now.”_

Despite what Impa said, Link was well aware he would have no choice in the matter. Although he was happy enough to stay busy, and potentially get his grimy hands on whatever weapons Robbie promised, the pouting girl next to him made him reluctant to agree so easily. Zelda’s face was blank enough, but she appeared stony. Brooding. And without a doubt, she would be caged within abbey walls yet again: her father’s decree a prison in its own right.

Urbosa put her hands on Zelda’s shoulders, amending to Link, “Rest assured, I will be keeping our princess company. The rest of you go on and try to stay out of too much trouble, you hear me?”

Nearly everyone present exchanged a doubtful look. Urbosa chuckled, Impa sighed, and with that, their groups parted. Of course, both Link and the princess glanced over their shoulders to exchange a regretful wave.

He resolved to bring back at least one souvenir, if he could.

His group of three found themselves standing in the Forest of Spirits near a set of ruined archways and crumbling walls. The sun would be setting soon, no doubt: rays of orange light piercing the tree line and casting thick, inky shadows across them. It made the bright blue of the sword in Robbie’s hands stand out even more than usual.

“This,” he said, raising the weapon as if it were as sacred as the blade on Link’s back, “is my greatest work yet.”

Link expected Revali to scoff or do something mildly offensive, yet he merely watched on: eyes narrowed with keen interest. His fascination with Sheikah technology hadn’t changed even after being handed that Divine Beast, it seemed.

They both watched, curious as Robbie turned the thing on and off. Blade, then no blade. It was almost hypnotizing. He explained the controls of it: rambling on about its creation in a way Link had difficulty following. But soon enough, the man was digging through a chest of them and tossed him a device of his own.

Link sntached it out of the air, turning it over in his hand. It was just as Revali leaned it to inspect it that a serrated blade materialized out of thin air. The weapon nearly decapitated that Rito, and his squawk of surprise as he jumped gave Link the opportunity to send him a mocking look.

“Are you trying to kill me?!” he demanded, swiping at him. 

He dodged, uncaring, and pressed another switch on the blade’s handle. It began to rotate- the edges a blur. They gawked at it. Revali quickly, and wisely, backed away upon seeing a mad grin appear on both Robbie and Link’s faces.

Maybe he was starting to see the family resemblance. 

Ten seconds later, Link had his boot against the roots of a tree as he tore through it with his new toy: wood splintering and cascading into the air like confetti.

“Hylia, why him?” Revali grumbled as he watched Her Champion sprint off to shred another large tree before the other even slammed into the ground.

Robbie was taking notes. The object was surprisingly heavy in Link’s hands. It was possible he was the first person who’d been capable of swinging it around. Though, it was just as likely he was also the only person capable of breaking it to pieces. That was something which didn’t take long; while raking the weapon through a pillar, it shattered to pieces in his hands, sparkling fragments.

He stood dumbly as the column snapped and tipped over. A nervous swallow. Slowly he looked to Robbie, frightened of what the Sheikah man would do to him- yet he sighed as if it was expected.

“Although they are not as fragile, they do have their limits just as our own weapons do,” he elaborated with a shrug. “It is a work in progress.”

Link was assigned to testing out the strength of several more weapons, Robbie watching to see which prototype could last the longest against his brute strength. Revali observed, bored, until their chaperone dug out a quiver from his chest.

“These are my newest project. Would you like to do the honors?”

Revali was handed a single arrow. He inspected them the same way he’d inspected Zelda’s Slate after the Champion’s ceremony: squinting and cautious. Suspicious.

They peered over a set of bushes- at a stray Bokoblin that busily stomped around a pool of water. It kicked at its own reflection.

The monster was blissfully unaware of Revali standing from their cover, knocking back his new arrow. He let it loose the moment that Bokoblin glanced towards them- blinking- and both Champions gasped in awe when it dissolved into nothing with a flash of light.

No smoke. Not a single tooth left behind.

Revali had a demand:

“I would like three quivers of these.”

Robbie’s answer to that was instantaneous. “That will be six thousand rupees.”

Silence. And then:

“...Six hundred?”

“Six thousand.”

“Ah.”

The Sheikah’s goggles blinked at him. Somehow they conveyed a look of reproach. “That should be nothing for a Champion, shouldn’t it? If I recall, you each were gifted a sum of seventy thousand upon making your oaths.”

Link and Revali, for once, exchanged a mutual look of shame.

“...Unless you’ve blown all of it after only one year?”

They swallowed.

Robbie’s jaw slacked, and he pointed at the two of them using both his hands, shouting, “How on Hylia’s green earth did you do such a thing?!”

Their answers were simultaneous.

“Tabanthan real estate.”

“Horses.”

Robbie lifted his goggles and Revali blinked as if he wasn’t sure of what he heard. Link suddenly became the target of scrutiny. He shriveled, and pleaded, “Don’t tell my dad,” quickly, he added, “or Her Highness… or anyone, actually-”

Revali cackled as loudly as Urbosa: a wing over his face. Robbie continued waving an accusing finger at him. “Horses? You wasted the fortune of a _duke_ on horses?!”

“I saved three hundred!” he defended. Revali was still laughing, and Link resisted the urge to go over and punt him across the pond like a Bokoblin.

“And where might that be?” Robbie threw an arm out, birds startling at all his fervent yelling. “In your pocket?!”

Link waved dismissively. His tone suggested he was awfully sure of himself. “I put it somewhere safe.”

“A bank?”

“In the ocean.”

His cousin looked like he was about to faint. Revali bent over, using a tree for support as he wheezed into the dirt. “In the- the _ocean_ he says-”

“Will you _stop?”_

“Goddess, I have to tell everyone-”

Link was quick to snuff that out. “Tell anyone and I’ll let them all know you lost it bidding on fake land!”

The Rito sobered at that, glaring. “Fake land?”

“If it wasn’t then how come I haven’t heard you bragging to anyone about some _fancy_ mansion you’re having built?”

He scoffed. “I don’t need a _mansion-”_

Link mimicked his scoff. “You don’t need a mouth either, but you use that anyway.”

Revali stomped towards him, hissing, “And you don’t need a thousand horses! What are you?! A preteen girl-”

The Rito was sent spinning by a tree branch smacking into his face, and Link didn’t have time to react before Robbie twisted to slap him with it as well. It snapped in two. Leaves fluttered to the ground.

“Silence!” He commanded. “We are done here! Off you go!”

He kicked the two bruised, grumbling Champions out of his forest. Before they left, he called to inform them the Plateau would be off limits for the night. The East abbey grounds, and no father, he said. 

Link assumed it was due to Purah’s destructive tendencies during the nighttime- a conclusion Revali seemed to come to as well. However, he couldn’t help but think it was suspicious: the fact that even though it was dark by the time they reached that abbey, not a single tremor, nor a single rumble could be heard in the distance.

Though, neither of them missed the mysterious blue glow that began to emanate from the cliffs above.

“...That is pitiful.”

Huh?

Link turned to question the Rito next to him, but found it wasn’t the cliffs he was staring at. Instead, his face was tilted up at that old abbey, beak pulled in an almost disgusted manner. When he followed his gaze, a sigh escaped him. The sight of Zelda’s hands pressed against the glass of a barred window was as pitiful as the Rito claimed. She was gazing longingly at the unmistakable hue of Sheikah technology: biting her lip as if she was holding back tears.

He wasn’t expecting it, but Revali suddenly turned to him and put both his wings up in a relenting manner. “Well, I for one have every intention of flying off to see what that is. Sneak her out, will you? Even _I_ can’t stand to look at that.”

Link didn’t get to answer. The Rito was already gone with a storm of wind: spiraling into the air- his dark feathers hardly visible against the night sky; without question, he’d have no trouble snooping around with cover like that. Returning his gaze to Zelda’s window, he could see she was now sitting at a desk, head in her arms.

Goddess, he didn’t have a choice, did he?

There was a dead tree outside her window. Link scaled it, squatting on a branch as he reached through the bars and knocked. The girl startled, sitting straight. He waved, and Zelda was opening the rickety thing in the blink of an eye.

“Hi,” he said.

“Hi,” she repeated, blinking.

“I’m breaking you out.”

The princess gasped as if that was actually surprising. “A- Are you sure about that?” she whispered. “There’s so many Sheikah, Link, it won’t be as easy as-”

He stopped her with one hand. “It’s fine. I know their patterns now.”

Zelda’s eyes flicked to the eerie light, and then back to him. She looked caught somewhere between temptation and fear. “You’ll get in trouble. What if Impa catches us? She won’t be as lenient, I’m sure.”

“Do you trust me?” he countered with a faint smile, patting her head.

The action seemed to calm her. With wide eyes, she took a breath, nodded, and stepped back from the bars to extinguish the candles in her room.

Yanking the bars off would be too much. A lock and chain held them closed, and he elected to use his sword- cutting it silently. The gate-like bars swung open, creaking through rust. Link waited for her to climb out, joining him on the branch before he closed them. Somewhat lazily, he tied the chain around them again. It was messy, but they both shrugged. It was convincing enough from a distance.

They'd become fast: efficient in their escapes. He swung off the branch, holding out his arms just in time to catch Zelda as she leapt after him. The girl was then tossed to her feet a second later, and just like that, they were sprinting away like thieves into the night. 

  


* * *

  


“That,” Zelda informed him as they peered over a stone railing, “is our goal.”

“It’s crawling with Sheikah,” Link pointed out. Nearly twelve of them were running up and down the long path leading to that cliff. He was fairly certain he heard Purah yapping commands. When he glanced over, Zelda had a sharp-toothed grin.

“I have a plan,” she insisted. “It may take a little time, but it is sure to work.”

He liked her tone of voice.

The first step would be stealing away explosives from the Sheikah’s reserves. Those lingering near their supply cache were either distracted or snoring away: making the job especially easy. When he returned with their supplies, Zelda neglected to tell him exactly where barrels of volatile substances fit into her plot, pulling her mouth into a perplexed look instead.

“It’s strange, though,” she mused. “This entire Plateau is holy ground. They shouldn’t be allowed to disturb the earth with things like these... Whatever they’ve found must have been important enough to convince the priests here- and that is no small feat.”

They stood, thoughtful, and assumed they would find out soon enough.

She led him North of the East abbeys. The area was empty: completely unoccupied what with being mostly ignored by priestesses for centuries. Though there was still an object of interest: a mound of stone which sat in that wide space. Zelda instructed him to plant their explosives in front of it. 

Her hands brushed near a crevice splitting across the stone. Link peered into it next to her. “I spent quite a few days inspecting this when I still lived here.... You can’t see through it without a proper light, but there is slate within this stone.” She backed away, framing her hands at it as if it was some sort of artwork. “I am certain there is something hidden within.”

He was catching on to her plan.

“This won’t be enough to break through.”

The princess nodded, “Yes. Which is why we must loosen the stone first.” Link put his hands on his hips, and Zelda mirrored his pose. “There is no better tool for the job than Daruk’s boulder breaker, wouldn’t you say?”

“We’re dragging him into this?” he cocked his head. Link wasn’t sure they could convince him; that Goron was a little too skittish around the Sheikah sisters. But to be fair, most people were.

The girl reached out, waving around his arm. “You’re strong. We can borrow it!” She leaned in, gossiping, “Daruk is the heaviest sleeper in all of Hyrule. He practically falls into a medicinal coma. I am certain he won’t notice it’s gone.”

She walked off when he raised a dubious eyebrow and asked, “How do you know that?”

Zelda turned to walk backwards, a little sheepish. “I... may have.. visited his house to search for a recipe during the after hours of the day.”

“The _spice?”_

The princess wrung her hands together. “Yes. Sadly, I discovered he’s not one for writing things down aside from training regimens. As far as I know. I couldn’t make out a lot... His penmanship is not the cleanest, you see.”

None of that was surprising.

Link jogged after her with a taunt, “So we can add breaking and entering to your list of crimes?”

“Crimes?” she looked appalled.

He started to count on his fingers, “You stole from your uncle, smuggled guardian tech, trespassed-”

 _“You_ have been complicit in most of those!” she protested. “And it was one knife!”

“So you admit you stole it?” He poked her forehead, pretending to chide her.

“Don’t you start teasing me!” was her haughty order. “Goddess, I would have stayed in my room if I knew I would be subjected to this.”

“I’m sorry,” Link drawled, amused. “I’ll give you some space.”

He slowed his step, but Zelda snatched his hand, preventing him from drifting too far. “No,” she complained, “keep talking to me.”

That made him a little flustered, and her mouth quirked into a playful smile after seeing him glance away. It didn’t help, especially when her fingers interlaced with his, pulling him even closer.

“...Please?” she urged, bashful.

He shook out the feeling- the warmth in his head- and blurted, “Revali lost all his money on real estate scams.”

She sputtered, and if it weren’t for the hand on her mouth, Link bet her laughter would have been the one thing loud enough to wake Daruk.

Finding the Goron was easy. Daruk was on his back near a fire pit outside the abbey: a hand over his stomach and snoring like a Hinox.

According to Zelda, she’d seen him stumble past the abbey after being released from servitude minutes before Link and Revali had been banished from their woods.

“He wouldn’t fit through the abbey doors,” Zelda whispered. Apparently, he’d given up quickly and collapsed on the ground after lighting a fire, falling asleep within seconds.

At the very least, he seemed perfectly content to sleep outside.

Apologizing silently for their theft, Link grabbed the weapon, Zelda acquired rope, and they skittered back to their boulder.

Sheikah were easily distracted. 

The Plateau was an open piece of land: sound carried easily. Thus, shattering rock and one explosive barrel in the dead of night was plenty loud enough to catch their attention. Once those curious workers inevitably traced the source of that racket to a room of slate surrounded by burning grass, most were bound to lose their heads over that new discovery. 

They were, after all, moths drawn to a peculiar blue flame.

It was far from a guarantee that they would all leave their project unattended, yet Zelda seemed confident enough in their chances. And so, Link beat the wall until it cracked, held a torch to a line of rope attached to that barrel, and the two of them made a mad dash to cover: hiding Daruk’s boulder breaker as they went.

By the time they skidded into the bushes lining the Forest of Spirits, the explosion reverberated across the empty space. He watched, dumbfounded as nearly twenty Sheikah dropped what they were doing and made their own mad dash towards the flames lighting up the edge of the Plateau.

Really, wasn’t that the opposite of what one should do?

It was ten minutes before a Sheikah woman ran back up the path with news of their discovery. And, just as they’d hoped, their two directors were soon excitedly following the messenger Northward. Even Impa slinked after, looking exasperated and suspicious at the same time.

With the coast clear, they began their ascent. It was steep: the road leading up to that cave, and he found himself slowing to stare at a small overhang of rock- the embers of a dying fire still pulsing beneath ashen wood.

Zelda’s hand wrapped around the edge of a tunnel, just beneath blue firelight overhead, and her hair blew back from her shoulders as she moved to stare into the hollowed structure. A warm breeze rushed out to meet them. It felt humid. Dense.

Link raised a hand to squint against the harsh light. It was brighter than the inside of Naboris, the luminous stones beneath the castle- the immemorial creatures that circled Zora’s Domain.

With gathered courage, they delved into the cavern.

“...Mipha,” the girl next to him spoke as soon as they reached the end- her own hand lowering as their eyes adjusted.

She’d been looking intently into a bed of slate in the middle of the room. That blue was so vivid he could hardly pick out her own red color- nor the tint of bright gems adorning her figure. She startled at Zelda’s voice, mouth open as she whirled around.

That shock of hers faded immediately. It was replaced with disapproval.

“You shouldn’t be here, princess,” her eyes slid towards Link. “Neither of you.”

Zelda stepped forward, her tone resolute. “I know… we just want to look.”

Mipha’s lips pressed into a thin line. She considered refusing that request of hers, the look on her face just as challenging as Revali’s. 

But, she stepped to the side, allowing them to reap whatever they sowed. 

The Hylian girl nodded, perhaps thankful to some degree, and they approached.

Two steps was all they took before Zelda backpedaled, gasping, and even he flinched at what was before them.

A Sheikah man’s visage was distorted beneath rippling waters, yet it was clear as day there was no life left in him. 

  


* * *

  


Something sharp was in his shoulder, digging through flesh and fabric alike. A fumbling hand told him it was a thin branch, and almost uncaringly, he tore the thing out. Wisps of green light twisted between blades of grass: the lingering effects of Mipha’s Grace.

Her ghost had saved him yet again, and even bothered to stitch that ridiculous wound of his closed.

It was dark. Too dark beneath those trees. 

Link rolled over, grimacing. Despite Mipha’s blessings, his bones still felt out of place: splintered beneath his skin, and his muscles sore. He waved a hand in front of his face. He could barely see it.

And Symin still had his Slate.

The man probably thought he was dead. 

Oh, how ironic would it have been for the Hero of Hyrule to fall to his death the moment he waltzed out of the Shrine of Resurrection? His sense of humor must have become even darker over the last three years, because all Link did was laugh to himself at that thought.

Stumbling to his feet, he resorted to unsheathing his sword. It was a thread of light at his side as he tore at bushes: a lantern guiding him through dense foliage. Dim as it was, he had little trouble navigating his way out. Even in the night he recognized the patterns of oak trees around him. He’d spent weeks memorizing the layout of that small forest, after all. 

The Plateau was all too familiar to him.

His world had been small when he first awoke. Navigating it had been far easier back then. There’d been plenty of space in his head- plenty of room for intricate details.

Like a childhood home, his memory of that Plateau felt distant yet remarkably vivid at the same time.

He ran into Symin at the path leading down from the Shrine of Resurrection. He actually wept with relief upon seeing Link’s muddy face, and all he could do was awkwardly pat his companion's head whilst he sniffled pathetically into his tunic.

“Mipha’s too stubborn to let me die that easily,” he comforted him from the other side of their campfire, throwing away a bone from their dinner. “I’m pretty sure she’d kick me out of the afterlife, too.”

“I’m sure I would have joined you soon after,” he shuddered. “Ms. Director would have sent me there herself if I brought back news like that.”

His laughter at that was brief.

Purah. The thought of her subdued him.

“...I remembered the excavations here when I fell.”

The man was clearly taken aback by that sudden declaration, but Symin was no doubt aware of the layers to his statement. Link glanced away, picking apart the new information in his head and deciding just how much he wanted to pester him for details.

Though, his acquaintance didn’t hesitate to pry for answers of his own.

“How much, might I ask?” There was the click of glasses frames when Symin adjusted them. “I admit, I don’t know much myself.”

He placed one elbow on his knee, leaning over like an old man with back pain. “Up to the night after Zelda’s coming of age party.”

“A party? Well, at least it was a better memory, then.” he sounded placating- hoping to ease Link’s gloomy brooding. It was something he had to do often, working under a child-like woman ready to throw a tantrum over the slightest things.

He’d give the poor man a break. Link smiled, pulling a twig or two out of his hair. 

“Yeah, the party was fine.” he winced, “The aftermath wasn’t, though… For me.”

Revali and Urbosa came out of it fine: drunk and debating over something ridiculous at a table outfront. Daruk had eaten his fill: easy to please as always. Mipha was kicking dirt over her own anxieties by conversing with fellow Zora nobility somewhere near the rafters of that temple- even her airy tone carrying through the resonant halls.

And Zelda, well, she’d merely wound up confused and unsettled as Link stood with her at the back of that church: nearly crushing her in his arms as he tried desperately to block out a ball of terror wreaking havoc in his mind.

“Oh?” An eyebrow raised. 

Link was tempted to deflect his interest, yet the temptation to vent his emotions was too strong.

Taking a deep breath, he began, “I think it actually started... probably eight months before. When Purah had me deliver a letter to Impa- it was after they realized something was here.”

Later, he would hear of Impa’s full reaction to that demand of hers during a conversation with a passing Sheikah. The woman was seething with rage- and they argued for weeks on end, not dissimilar to the way King Rhoam had yelled at his daughter before her second pilgrimage. To Link, it was understandable considering the position she’d been put in. 

Requesting the king’s blessing to desecrate holy ground with explosives? To dig up grave sites if they caught wind of slate buried beneath? It was a hair’s breadth from mad, making an enemy out of the clergy like that.

It wasn’t surprising. Purah was as mad as she was brilliant, and she danced along that thin line with little effort and little care: the distance between passion and dangerous obsession the width of a trip wire beneath her feet. It left him not knowing what to think of her.

Rhoam, too, being desperate enough to agree.

Though, eventually, Impa must have seen the same potential in what was lurking within the Plateau that her sister did. How the woman managed to sweet talk Hyrule’s church into agreeing to something as insane as that was a mystery of its own. Leverage he thought. Favors.

He couldn’t help but wonder how far they really allowed her to go. The Shrine of Resurrection, it was called, and Link would be somewhat bothered by the question of whether or not Purah took that name literally.

What did she know by the time his own body was dumped into that shrine?

“We thought he was dead when we saw him in there. We didn’t know what state the shrine put people in when it healed them.”

Link snickered at the memory.

It’d made the both of them yelp: watching that man rise from his coffin of slate with a gasp only to droop over the edge- utterly drained the same way Link’s sword exhausted those who touched it. His head lulled as he squinted at them, but ultimately seemed too groggy to muster anything more than a greeting.

"-Highness..?"

His cheek squashed against his arm as he fell asleep, and Mipha inspected the man: her fingers probing over the freshly knitted wound on his side.

“Nothing but scars remain... In such a short time, too,” her voice drifted off.

“How? What does this device do, Mipha?” Zelda suddenly piped up, sounding desperate. Her interest finally got the better of her. She was pacing around the bed of slate, glancing up and down- the look in her eyes wild and the gears in her head no doubt a blur as they took in each and every detail Link would fail to understand.

Mipha would laugh, and give a short explanation. She was a conduit, she said. Her abilities were only limited to the resilience of her patient.

“It takes your own energy to heal, does it not? I merely accelerate the process.” Her head tilted in thought. She was sitting on the edge of that structure, looking all too unconcerned by Zelda practically sprinting circles around them. “This device heals its subjects, but to a degree that easily dwarfs my own abilities. I am here helping to… charge it, per say. Purah informed me it’d been drained of its power after so long, and somehow the energy I manipulate is something that fuels this device.”

It seemed miraculous, yet Mipha would warn that it came at a cost. Prolonged exposure would have negative effects- would take too much.

It was vague, and the Hylian princess opened her mouth to ask another question, but Revali suddenly hurtled into the tunnel. 

“Pardon the interruption, Your Highness, but I thought it best to let you all know the wardens are on their way back,” he glanced over his shoulder, wind still sweeping through the room- mist flowing in dizzying circles. “Specifically that wretched ambassador of yours.”

Zelda gasped. “We need to go! Mipha, please, I beg you, don’t tell them we were here.”

Her eyes flicked to Link: her promise was more to him than her Hylian counterpart. “You have my word. They shall be none the wiser.”

“What about him?” Link pointed to the man drooling over the side of the tub- groaning.

“Not to worry,” the girl’s explanation was a little morbid, and would instill plenty more questions of his own in his mind. “He won’t remember.”

“She’s fast,” Revali insisted with urgency. “We need to go. _Now.”_

And so, off they went, leaving Mipha to her strange duties.

Revali took Zelda into the sky with him. It was better to risk Link getting caught on his own than toting around the one person on the Plateau forbidden from so much as laying her eyes on a blue flame.

As rocky as their relationship was, Link resolved to thank the Rito later despite knowing full well his actions were to help Zelda more than him.

That decision turned out to be a wise one.

“Do you think I’m stupid?”

Impa posed that question to him when he’d gone to return Daruk’s boulder breaker. She was sitting on a log next to where the Goron should have been, legs and arms crossed. Most likely, the woman had kicked Daruk awake and demanded he go elsewhere for the evening.

Link was unperturbed by the sight of her. He’d fully expected to get caught.

“No,” he said, the weapon thudding onto the ground as he approached. “You’re related to Purah, aren’t you?”

“And you, Robbie,” she replied, standing, “yet you seem to be lacking all of his sense.”

Link had no answer to that, and so she continued. He assumed she would punish him regarding his trespassing- however, it became apparent that hadn’t been the subject of their conversation at all.

“Cut it off.”

“What?”

“Your fraternizing.”

The firepit was nothing but incandescent coals and wood. Bright, but subdued all the same- emitting a steady light that reminded him well of Death Mountain.

He remained quiet, his head and expression blank.

Denial? No. Refusal? Yes.

The twitch of his eyes conveyed his thoughts, and Impa regarded him with disbelief.

“No? I’ll have you know this is something I would have every intention of bringing to the king.”

“Is it?”

There was a challenge in his words. It was unintentional; he’d bristled- suddenly indignant by that threat. Even after all this time, he still had trouble letting foolish things slip out of his mouth every now and then, didn’t he? It may be a curse he would never escape.

Her eyebrows raised.

“Do you think your status makes you immune to punishments?”

“No.”

“Then, pray tell,” the woman bent over, baffled by his behavior, “how do you think this is going to end for you?”

“Not well,” Link admitted. “I’ve never thought it would.”

Her head cocked to the side- perhaps in revelation. “And yet you remain?”

The decision he made leaving Akkala Citadel was one he continued to stand by. It would hurt, he knew. He always knew.

“I can’t help it,” he might’ve sounded meek- girlish, really. It was embarrassing to admit the kind of hold Zelda had on him, how weak he was to his own infatuation.

Something in her face softened at that moment. It was yet another action that he hadn’t expected; anger, exasperation, a lack of mercy is what he predicted. Not whatever pity he saw in her lidded eyes.

“...It doesn’t matter.”

His lips parted. Just like that? No. Her words replayed in his mind, the tone of them- the ominent nature of them.

“What does that mean?” he asked, unable to hide the shred of panic in his voice as she watched the dying coals. Smoke drifted: ash in her hair.

Impa regarded him with one red eye over her shoulder. “Reflect hard on the answer you gave me tonight... You may wind up with a different one come three days.”

He was sick of riddles.

“Impa,” Link called out to her retreating form. 

She turned, somber and uncharacteristically gentle. Her goodbye was genuine: filled with a palpable sympathy. “That is all I can say, Link… When the time comes I’ll be there to talk, if you need it.”

_“Impa!”_

He marched forward, but by the time he chased her into the darkness, she was gone- a spectre as always.

Link had told Zelda that instinct was a better guide to him than his own mind, but that wasn't always true, was it? He would stand alone that night: frozen and dreadful. Every part of him was telling him to flee- somewhere, anywhere, and yet there was nowhere he could run. He was trapped, just as Hyrule's princess was.

One hundred years later that Plateau would be an inescapable cage, and although it was different in nature, he wouldn't hesitate to say the same a century before.

Some things, after all, never changed.

And this time, not for the better.

  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 4\. Lol Revali was everywhere this chapter- We'll see more of the others in the next though. I definitely got carried away with their arguing.  
> 5\. This is me profusely thanking everybody for their nice comments yet again! I'm spoiled by all of you guys, honestly.


	19. The Boy and The Sun

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. I'm extra nervous about this one lol
> 
> 2\. For the thirtieth time, I'm sorry Link

Details were left out. Bits, chunks of the story picked apart and hidden in his pockets. Symin either didn’t notice or didn’t care to address any gaps in Link’s tale.

He tried to remember what excuses he’d come up with as he wandered down the hill from Kakariko Village’s shrine. Specifically, what lie he came up with to explain why that party had ended so badly for him.

Food poisoning? Something stupid like that.

It didn’t really matter. It was still daylight- sometime before noon. For once, Link was barging into Impa’s house at a reasonable hour of the day, and it was something which clearly shocked Paya when they both went to open that door at the same time: nearly running into each other in their shared distraction.

The noise she made was nothing short of a squeal as she skittered backwards into the house, arms raised in some sort of pose Link guessed was meant to be threatening. There was blinking and then red cheeks. Embarrassment.

Her hands were on her face. The young woman’s shoulders slumped, apologetic and relieved at once.

“Hylia, I- I thought you were a Yiga!” Paya’s voice was muffled, barely audible.

Link glanced down at the red of his tunic. He couldn’t see further resemblance. 

His confusion was evident when she peeked through several fingers. Knowing it was ridiculous, she tried to leave the subject behind. “Master Link… um, is there something you need?”

He peered around her shoulder. “Impa...” his voice trailed off upon seeing the woman’s throne of cushions empty and unattended. “Where is she?”

Paya glanced towards the rafters as he leaned against the doorframe. Her voice fell into a whisper. “Grandmother… is sleeping. She and a few others, um… visited most of the night.”

“They partied,” he specified, a lopsided grin on his face. 

Her fingers were wringing together. Her eyes were going every which way. Nervous. She was always nervous around him. 

Zelda did something similar didn’t she? The detail made his expression fall.

“Yes,” a fond smile was on her lips. “I’m not sure if you are aware, but she is quite the heavy drinker. She… has little restraint.”

“I need to know,” his words were severe- as if it was of the utmost importance, “what kind of drunk is she?”

It was pointless conversation, but he would take any distraction. His head had been murky, dense with thought for over a week. He needed to expel some of it before it drove him mad.

Her face scrunched- nose wrinkling. Like Zelda, again.

A stone was growing in his chest. Was it from anger, he wondered? Maybe.

 _“Loud._ The kind that wakes the village,” for a moment, he thought he caught sight of a saucy glare as her eyes flicked back up to the ceiling. Suddenly, she blanched. “...D-Don’t tell her I said that, _please.”_

Link was snickering at that. He waved his hand- somewhat teasing but placating enough. “I won’t let her know my source.”

He had every intention of making fun of the old woman for it, of course.

Paya relaxed a little, her hands finally lowering from beneath her chin. It was progress.

“Goddess,” she said in a tone of voice that made his jaw tense. It was all just too much like Zelda, and he was struck with an urge to tell her to be quiet. “You’re the only one who can get away with such things!”

 _Yes,_ he thought. He got away with too much. 

The stone was turning into needles.

“Where were you going?” Link changed the subject, gesturing to a basket she’d dropped in their initial surprise.

Her lips parted. She’d completely forgotten, it seemed. “Oh, um, breakfast- I mean, to find ingredients. I- I wanted to make something to help grandmother’s headache. She always has one after nights like that.”

The nervousness she’d forgotten looked to return as well, something which made him inwardly sigh. Someday, he thought.

Link smiled, tapping his head. “Want help? I think I could use some myself.”

“...I’d be thankful,” Paya bowed her head quickly, and he moved out of the way so she could lead him towards the markets. 

  


* * *

  


Link was still pulling a shirt over his head when there was a knock at his window. He paused, blinking past fabric bunched across his face. Three raps. There could only be one culprit.

Yanking the rest of it down, he crossed the space. Sweeping curtains aside revealed a pair of green eyes peering up at him. Zelda was grinning. Impish. Link slid open his window, and the tree branch she was standing on creaked as she stood a little taller: her chin barely reaching the edge of the windowsill.

“There’s a door,” he reminded her as he leaned on his elbows, amused.

“Oh, yes,” she replied, fingers drumming across the ledge. “But this has a little more flare to it, don’t you think?”

(He spared a glance at the sky. Pink, yellow, and indigo: the earliest signs of dawn. It was far, far too early, and yet the girl before him appeared surprisingly energetic. Their antics last night must have served to return some of her vigor- tide her off. That was good, he thought. It made all the trouble he’d gotten himself into worth it.)

Link extended a hand. She grasped it, and soon she was clumsily stumbling into his room. He closed it after her, the girl’s arms spiraling as she caught her balance.

“Good morning,” she stood straight- poised- clearly trying to cover up all her graceless staggering. There was a beat of silence as she looked him up and down. “I’m sorry, I thought you’d already be prepared for the day. I didn’t mean to barge in.”

He shook his head, putting hands on his hips. “This is rare. Usually I’m awake before you.”

The girl looked sheepish. “I decided to wake early. I only have an hour before the nuns will whisk me away for the day, you see.” She hesitated, fingers wringing together. “And- and I know Purah will all but kidnap you, too, so I wanted to see you before we got separated again.”

He crossed his arms, contemplative, and settled on a response:

“That’s cute.”

Her cheeks flushed, but she maintained her composure. “Wh- I take it you don’t mind then?”

Link’s hands were soon on either side of her face, insisting, “Never.”

Zelda didn’t recover from that, mumbling incoherently as she tried to look anywhere else. Up, down, left, right. He soaked it in, pleased with that reaction. Nearly a year they’d spent in each other’s company and he still had such an effect on her.

It was gratifying.

She’d adapted, however. That much was clear when she suddenly stood higher and planted her mouth on his. He would have leaned into it- reciprocated, but Zelda pulled away just as quickly. It left him pouting, and a mischievous look spread over her face upon seeing his reaction. That princess knew full well she had just as much sway over him.

It was embarrassing. He was supposed to be the teasing one.

Looking at the sheer curtains next to them, he inquired, “For the ceremony?”

The nuns’ tasks for her, he meant.

“More for prayer,” she provided. “And fittings for the dress... What will Purah have you do, you think?”

Link shrugged with a loud sigh. “Labor if Robbie doesn’t kidnap me, too.”

Zelda tilted her head, her eyes moving somewhere a little lower. A hand reached up: grazing over a cut along his face. “Speaking of, I saw this last night. Where did you get this?”

“Robbie slapped me with a tree branch.”

She sent him a dubious look.

He was grumbling, “Revali wouldn’t shut up.”

“About?”

“He was making fun of me for liking horses.”

She scoffed. It was exaggerated, indignant. “How _dare_ he.”

 _“Right!?”_ That word came just as indignant as that scoff of hers.

A second passed, and then Zelda sputtered, laughing.

“He doesn’t know what he’s talking about.” Link defended- and when she only laughed louder at that he protested a second time, poking her, “Are you listening? I’m serious! He doesn’t have any taste.”

“Yes, yes, you’re absolutely right, I’m sure,” she appeased him, still looking and sounding far too amused.

Before he could complain any further, the girl’s arms reached up to rest lazily on his shoulders. Silence fell as Link watched her curiously: observing whatever it was that swam behind her eyes. 

Green, lively. No longer as doleful as they’d been. That was good.

Zelda was searching his own, and she seemed to approve of whatever she found there, as well.

“One for the day?” she requested, faintly.

(One for the day, for the night, for the road: it was a common exchange of theirs. It was their way of asking the other for encouragement when they feared the path ahead would prove to be difficult or particularly long.)

Link obliged.

Her hands moved to his chest when he kissed her, pushing his back against the wall next to the window: trapped between her and that wood surface. Link didn’t mind the pressure; it expelled the morning’s chill- the misty Springtime air seeping in from those window panes.

Zelda’s lips would occasionally slow or drift mere centimeters away, forcing him to chase after her yet again. She’d smile against his mouth each time, teasing and relishing in his fight for attention. Soon, however, he wouldn’t have to try. Her hands moved: slipping beneath his shirt and exploring bare skin. Drifting. Cold.

He shivered. There was another smile.

The fear was still there; Impa’s words from the night before still rattled around in his head. They were morbid and grating and worrying. Link stubbornly ignored it. He focused on her touch.

Zelda grabbed his belt and tugged him closer. That didn’t help- it only encouraged his hands to rove plenty of places they shouldn’t as his lips traveled to her jaw, her neck, and beneath an unbuttoned collar. A sound escaped her with a shaky breath as hands tugged at his hair- his sleeve. She shifted further into him, legs and hips moving. Friction there. An electric shock went through him before he suddenly returned to his senses.

Link straightened to clear his throat; it was entirely possible they were getting carried away. 

The princess seemed to agree after shaking the fog out of her head, stepping back to maintain a little distance between them. Zelda swallowed and averted her gaze: flushed as she adjusted clothing back into place. Though, there came a moment that she stopped moving. She stared off into space as she recalled something.

She looked at him again. A smile crept on her face, but something in it was chilling. Eerie. Link shrunk away; he was in trouble, he already knew.

“...By the way,” she leaned back in, whispering ever so sweetly in his ear, “Revali told me you spent all of your money on horses?”

Of course that bastard would _snitch._

He froze, unintentionally corroborating that claim, and she was yanking at his shirt, incensed. 

“You! You’re lucky Robbie already smacked you!” Zelda wouldn’t let him shy away. He was still trapped against that wall- between two arms. “You bought all of the foals at the ranch, didn’t you? I can’t believe I trusted you when you said they let you name all those horses just because you were a Champion!”

He couldn’t believe she’d trusted him, either. 

Link tried to defuse the situation, dodging her glare- and a flick of her fingers. “I named a palomino after you!”

That made her pause- the anger receding.

“Remember the gold one? I said it was pretty?” He didn’t hesitate to take advantage of her distraction. For a split second, she seemed touched: flattered, even. There was hope for him.

It was dashed. Her nose scrunched yet again and she ground through her teeth, “I also remember you giving me a mocking look and _pointing_ at me when it tripped over its own legs into the dirt!”

He _did._

A snort escaped him at the memory- and he cursed himself when he saw a canine flash, threatening. The girl was pinching his cheeks at that point, seething, “You’re unbelievable! How dare you!”

Link was certain his face would bruise by the time she was done scolding him. But upon hearing him wince, the girl wilted. Her forehead thudded against his shoulder as she sighed with resignation. A dismissive hand was waved.

“Goddess... I let you get away with too much.”

He laughed once and squeezed her with his own arms. That hug was almost crushing.

“You do,” Link agreed into the crook of her neck as Zelda returned the embrace.

Haughty was what her reply was supposed to be- yet it was entirely drowned out by the affection in her tone. “...You’re lucky I like you so much, you cretin.”

He smiled, closing his eyes. Something warm and pleasant was in his chest. “I am, aren’t I?”

A different answer. Was that what Impa said?

 _Never,_ he thought. 

  


* * *

  


“Work faster!” 

Purah was yelling at him from atop a boulder. She was lounging across it, much the same way she had in Rito Village.

“It’d be faster if you let Daruk do it!” Link griped, kicking at heavy stones as he poked his head out of the now hollowed out boulder from last night. 

“You,” the woman retorted, “need to repay me for the explosives you stole! Do you know how much those barrels cost?” she didn’t let him answer. “I’ll tell you! One thousand rupees a piece! And that’s _with_ a discount!”

He returned to smashing rock with a hammer. As it turned out, his punishment was to perform his own excavation.

Impa tattled on him. Though he wasn’t sure why, it seemed the woman neglected to mention Zelda’s part in all of it. That was fine. It was his instigation after all, and Purah, despite all her tyranny, had a soft spot for him whether or not she would admit it.

Rubble fell away as Link hit something. A painful shockwave went through his limbs, making him drop his tool. Slate, no doubt. He swiped away dirt and dust, blinking at the odd structure before him. 

“Purah!” he yelled, shaking out his hand. “I found a pedestal!”

The woman was at the mouth of his little cavern faster than he could even turn around.

“A _pedestal?!”_ Wild eyed. Glasses glinting. Link backed away.

She raised her Slate and pressed it into the slot. Standing on his toes, he barely managed to see over her hunched shoulders. The woman cursed under her breath as the Slate flipped over yet again: its screen displaying an odd message.

“You’re not allowed in?” he questioned.

Slowly, Purah turned, squinting at him. Her glasses didn’t need to be adjusted, but she moved them anyway: suspicious and interrogative.

“...Has someone been _studying?”_ With a flick of her wrist, she snatched up the device and shoved it in his face. “What’s the yellow icon mean?”

“Assertion violation.”

She turned it, tapping something. “How about _this?”_

His expression was bored when he stared at a set of empty slots. “Placeholders,” he swiped the screen. “And that’s a radar. It finds Shrines.” She opened her mouth to test his knowledge again, but he pointed to the terminal, droning, “You can try to force your way in, but the behavioral monitoring might catch you and blacklist you- or it might corrupt your data and mess up the Slate’s interoperability. You’ll have to try and work around it.”

The woman retracted her device, holding it to her chest. She looked horrified. “Who _are_ you?!”

He put his hands on his hips, unimpressed by her theatrics.

She quickly dropped the act and rolled her eyes. “I’m guessing the princess has been filling your head with stuff while working on that army of hers in the castle’s basement?”

(The girl did, in fact, have a collection of twenty Guardians now skittering around the old mines; if anyone wandered down there they’d certainly be in for the fright of their lives. _He_ certainly had after stumbling upon Zelda squatting in the darkness: unnerving goggles to match Robbie’s as her and her Guardians’ sights jerked towards him.)

Link opened his mouth to refute that- to tell her no, Zelda had been abiding by the king’s order, but she cut him off.

“Ugh, don’t bother. We practically raised Her Highness, I know her too well.”

She was the first one to help Zelda smuggle in Guardian tech all those years ago, she’d tell him.

“And believe me, I noticed when our Sentires on the castle mysteriously started _losing_ parts.” She curled her lip at him. “Thieves, the both of you brats! I ought to have you pay me back for those, too.”

Huffing, Purah went to return to her terminal, but she momentarily glanced back at him- sobered. Difficult to read. “You’re smarter than you pretend to be, aren’t you?”

“You think I’m faking being dumb?” he asked, crossing his arms. Defensive. “I’m not. I’m not as smart as the rest of you.”

It was a partial lie. He had the capacity to learn, he was sure, yet the last thing Link wanted was to give Purah another method of putting him to work; he’d rather break rocks than tinker with Slate.

“No one around here is good at playing dumb,” she knew better than to believe him. Her face was hidden now, and he didn’t like her tone as she muttered, “except for that sneaky king of ours.”

Resentful, is how she sounded. Frustrated. Maybe Rhoam fooled her once or twice, caught her in a lie or two of her own?

It didn’t matter. Link was just glad he wasn’t the only one wary of that man. 

  


* * *

  


It was the afternoon at that point- the sun high and the air having grown far warmer. Returning near the East Abbeys allowed him to see that Urbosa was lounging as lazily as his Sheikah boss. A plate of toasted truffles was in her hand: most likely cooked by the firepit in front of her. She ate them like a vine of grapes.

It was a garden area: part of the guest housings, and that ornate sofa beneath her was nestled in the refreshing shade of a gazebo.

“Enjoying yourself, are you?” was Link’s dry greeting. He was still covered in dirt and sweat from his chores, and that woman was the only one of the Champions not being put to work; it was clear she had no shame in flaunting it.

“Oh, yes,” blue lips pulled into a smirk, and she held out her plate of delicacies. “Would you like one?”

He took a handful. Urbosa scowled and yanked her plate away from him.

“Her Highness?” he asked between mouthfuls, shameless as she was. 

“With a friend,” she drawled. “Apparently, I frightened the poor boy, and so our princess sent me away.”

The woman pretended to look hurt.

Link raised an eyebrow, doubtful. “You scared him on purpose, didn’t you?”

“I’d never,” she defended. “I merely… reminded him of certain boundaries.”

The memory of his own reminder flashed behind his eyes, and he took an involuntary glance at the scimitar resting against that couch. Even in the shade all that gold caught light. Sinister.

His eyes narrowed a bit, and the woman grinned like a snake. “He was teaching her a few things,” Urbosa inspected her nails yet again. They looked like claws. _“I_ thought it wise to inform him of the proper distance in which he should sit from Her Highness.”

Link’s hands were on his hips, disapproving. “You left her with him alone?”

She burst out laughing. “I assure you it’s safe. You should have seen that spindly boy. He trembled like a poodle the moment he saw me!” Her tone suddenly fell flat, “He’s completely harmless.”

He stood there, quiet. “...That’s good.”

“Yes, it is.”

Silence. 

“Don’t you have work to do, boy?”

Oh, he did. But Robbie could wait a few minutes more- Revali’s yammering was sure to keep him distracted, after all.

Link briefly looked at the cobblestone as he came up with an excuse. “Who is it? I might know him, too.”

The most derisive look he’d ever seen pulled at her face. She made no effort to hide it, and it made him want to throw the rest of her truffles into the fire pit. “His name escapes me, unfortunately. Though, he arrived with all the royal musicians. I would assume he’s one of them... A poet, perhaps?”

Link’s mouth opened. The pieces fell into place. _Reed._ “I do know him, where is he?”

“You want to visit?”

Not really. 

“Yeah.”

Lazily, she pointed towards the Temple of Time.

“Descriptive,” Link commented.

Urbosa rolled her eyes. “You needn’t do anything other than follow the sound of an awful flute. Her Highness is... not musically inclined, you see.”

They shared an amused look and he walked off.

“Try not to scare him yourself,” she called. “I worry one more fright may scare him off the Plateau!”

Goddess, what did she say to him? He sent her a bewildered look over his shoulder, which only prompted more laughter.

Link would feel nothing but sympathy for Reed. They were kindred souls, being on the other end of that woman’s hissing threats. However, a shred of that sympathy would be dashed when he strode past several guards and into the hallway of a smaller building only to see his hands over Zelda’s: teaching her how to strum away at a lute.

He watched on, evaluating.

Where Urbosa’s distaste came from was clear by the way his hands lingered seconds too long. But Link, being the curious type, wouldn’t interfere just yet.

He’d remain in the shadows, leaning against the arched entryway. It was fascinating, actually, and he understood why Zelda must have requested to learn from him. Reed’s hands were a blur as he strummed away at one of his instruments. 

Deft movements, dizzying harmonics- some sort of tapping melody he couldn’t source. His hands moved too fast, and that was a feat in its own right. The ability to move at a speed Link couldn’t track?

Well, he hated to say he was impressed.

The cords echoed loudly in that wide hallway, and it seemed both him and Zelda were in a strange trance. She sat at a stone bench, watching intently- perhaps trying to make sense of it the same way he was.

It wasn’t until Reed handed Zelda a flute and a shrill screech reverberated off the walls that he deigned to interrupt. It would be a mercy for the both of them; even that poet was flinching away from the sound.

“Hey,” Link said, after he’d approached from behind the two of them. 

Both startled- and he recoiled at the grating noise that came from the flute as Zelda let out a shocked breath.

Reed had a hand on his heart. “Sir Link-”

“Don’t call me that,” he interrupted.

“Right- just Link- Good Afternoon,” he greeted. “It’s been quite some time.”

“Four months,” he mused. “You’re done touring?”

A nod. “I was teaching Her Highness the basics.”

Zelda grinned sheepishly. “We are trying to find what could be a good fit. Though I’m afraid I may not have any talent in the realm of music.”

“Nonsense, Your Highness,” Reed insisted, surprisingly stern. “It is a subject to study, like everything else, and from what I know you are quick to learn. All you need is practice, I say.”

“That’s kind of you,” she smiled, and addressed Link. “I’m interested to see how well _you_ fare with a lute.”

“I’m surely no better than you, Your Highness,” he deflected, his smile a little stiff.

Something devious passed over her innocent face, and she cocked her head. “Come now, you can’t know until you try, can you?”

“I am curious as well, my friend,” Reed looked just as devious. Some sort of challenge was there in his face.

Fine, then. Refusing would take more effort.

Link held his hand out, and a lute was given to him. Reed explained the basics before acquiring an instrument of his own. It was a simple lesson: observe and copy, and unlike Zelda, speed came far easier to him. However, he wasn’t used to movements quite that precise- even something as basic as strumming one or two chords at a time.

Both her and her poet seemed surprised at that. 

He shrugged, giving up, and set the instrument down after two minutes.

“So soon?” Reed questioned. There was a mocking layer to it despite his amiable grin. His eyes were more yellow than red under the vivid hues of stained glass. Wolfish, he thought. A side of him he hadn’t seen before was slipping through, perhaps intentionally.

Was he imagining things?

Ignoring it, Link shrugged yet again.

“Reed, I would appreciate more lessons from you when we return to the castle,” Zelda stood, nodding determinedly. “Would you be so kind?”

“It would be an honor, Your Highness,” he paused, nervous. “...If I may, there is something rather embarrassing I must confess. His Majesty requested a ballad be composed about you for this celebration, and… well, I may have volunteered for the task.”

“Has he?” She was genuinely surprised.

He smiled looking all too fondly at her, “The reason I mention it is because I have several versions, but I cannot decide which is best. Your Highness, would you be willing to help me with this?”

She laughed, a little nervous herself. “It will be strange hearing poems about myself, but I would be happy to help. Although, I’m afraid I don’t have much time left in my afternoon break.”

“Tomorrow then, Your Highness?”

“Yes, that sounds perfect.”

In a rather bold move, he flirted, “It is a date then.”

Zelda took that more as a joke, and giggled, “It is.”

Reed’s gaze slid towards Link. It was when Zelda looked away to gather her notes that the man smirked at him.

Link tapped a foot once. Where exactly was the meekness Urbosa had talked about? He’d enjoy some of it right about now.

The princess seemed blissfully unaware of the strange tension emanating off of Reed, reflecting on her lessons and rambling about how the chords feel beneath her fingers. The poet was still talking to her, and at one point- he was explaining how one’s hands grow numb to it over time. When she expressed curiosity, her hands wound up on his own a second time. Fingertips drifted across hers: pointing to where callouses may form.

She was interested, inquiring here and there: remarking about the signs of one’s profession- or something frivolous like that. He wasn’t paying too much attention to their words.

Link’s foot tapped again. Twice. Didn’t she say she had to go back to the temple?

Reed, yet again, for what felt like the twelfth time, glanced at him and subtly swiped his thumb across the back of her hand.

Well, that was just about enough of _that._

Link immediately spoke to Zelda. “Your Highness, you said you weren’t good with music, but I remember hearing you sing during the sermons,” he smiled, sickeningly sweet. “I thought your voice sounded beautiful.”

Zelda’s eyes widened, and her hands were pulled from Reed’s as she covered her mouth. 

“T-Thank you.”

She looked away: bashful and stammering. Link checked Reed’s expression; the man looked constipated.

Good.

“Robbie’s waiting for me, so I’ll be heading off before he sends Revali to kidnap me from the air. Your Highness, I can escort you back to Urbosa if you want?”

She nodded, trotting after him. Zelda waved at her poet. “I will see you tomorrow, Reed!”

“Good to see you,” Link waved a hand as well, calling over his shoulder. “I’m excited to hear you play again.”

The poet scowled, but his expression relaxed when he realized he meant those words. It was disappointment, he guessed, lurking behind his eyes when he nodded.

Maybe Reed also wanted an excuse to hate him. 

  


* * *

  


Another day passed without incident. There was more digging. More weapon testing. More truffles and more silly arguments with mouthy birds. Mipha would remain huddled in her blue caverns: dipping her hands into what the Sheikah considered nothing if not holy waters.

He could never find Impa. Link searched during the nights when his anxiety would always find him- keep him awake. Even Purah had little clue where her sibling was hiding, having no answer for each and every one of his inquiries until he was kicking at dirt and trespassing in every corner of that Plateau. Once, he thought he caught sight of Impa’s dark figure atop snowy peaks to the East, yet it was nothing but a trick of the daylight reflecting off those white slopes.

Mirages, paranoia, hours spent picking apart her words- trying to understand what lay behind them.

It was all pointless, because in nothing but the blink of an eye he was standing at the end of a long line on the third and final day. 

The soldiers, chantryfolk, and all the servants on that Great Plateau were planted along the sides of the long ramp leading up from the roads below. The same way those three Sheikah had greeted them, Zelda and her Champions waited motionless at the very end. All but Mipha would kneel by her side as King Rhoam began the march up from his decorative carriage.

It was a wave of bowed heads, trumpets, and rippling flags that followed him as he and his black and white sentinels approached.

Sneaking a glance upwards, Link caught sight of a blue and gold cape: unusual colors for Hyrule’s king. He and his daughter were a matching pair, united for the brevity of a single day. The captain of the royal guard would bark a command, allowing all of Rhoam’s subjects to raise their heads.

With the king’s dramatic entrance over with, nobles began their own ascent into the Plateau. One-hundred-and-thirty-four, he remembered from his and Orwell’s plans. They split off into various directions: snaking rivers of glittering jewels and feathered hats.

Rhoam put his hands on his daughter’s shoulders, murmuring a greeting. Warmth was in his gaze, and the hint of a grin beneath his beard.

“My, how you’ve grown,” he mused. Somber, that’s how he sounded; and Link wondered if he heard a hint of emotion- the barest of tremors in his voice.

Zelda managed a smile, that crown of hers flickering as she raised her head to face him.

Sighing through his nose, Rhoam’s hands returned to his sides, and he raised his voice to the Champions mere feet away. “I trust you’ve enjoyed your stay?”

“Oh absolutely, Your Majesty,” Urbosa was the first to pipe up- the only member of their group to be standing completely straight. They all sent the woman a mix of different waspish stares. Even Mipha’s eyes flicked over, and Link was amazed to see her lip curl for the first time in his life.

Most of them were still sore from all the labor those Sheikah had put them through, after all- Mipha sleep deprived, Revali missing a feather or two from Robbie’s dangerous saws, and Daruk covered in even more dirt than usual.

(The king merely pressed his mouth into an exasperated line; he was probably well aware of Purah’s talent for dragging just about anyone into her ranks. Though, not entirely unwilling. That woman had a strange sort of draw to her despite screeching orders like a Bokoblin most hours of the day.)

Without warning, Rhoam’s eyes landed on him.

“Good morning, boy. Are you well?”

He held the king’s gaze. In his surprise, he was slow to respond. “...Yes, Your Majesty.”

Link thought he would have addressed him for a reason- that he would have had something to say instead of some strange personal greeting, yet he declared he would be departing to the temples and waltzed past without another word.

Zelda sent Link a sort of wide-eyed look: perplexed. He didn’t have a chance to respond before a hand plopped itself on top of his head.

“Hey, Captain,” his father droned as he and his unit followed after the king, “clean up your hair for the party. You look like a rat.” His tone became much more pleasant when he passed by Mipha. “Good morning, Highness, lovely to see you. Tell your father I said hi?”

“Hello, Ser Landon!” she waved, smiling happily. “Yes! Of course.”

“I’m good, how are you?!” Link shouted after his father, sarcastic. All he heard was cackling from the man before he vanished into the crowd. There was a scowl on his face. Arms crossed. “I don’t look like a rat.”

“I’d beg to differ,” someone deadpanned from behind him.

His head snapped to Revali, growling. 

“Hey! _Behave,_ both of you.” Urbosa snapped her fingers as if she was breaking apart squabbling cats. They slinked away from each other as if that was exactly what they were.

“Daruk, would you walk between them?” Urbosa requested.

“My pleasure,” Daruk started laughing, boisterous and loud enough to draw the attention of the crowds around them. It was the closest to mocking Link had ever seen him. 

Despite the mountain now separating them- neither he nor Revali neglected to exchange the occasional glare when no one was looking. He was strangely thankful for it. It was a good distraction from the flurry of people staring at him: eyeing his sword as if it was something they wanted to reach out and snatch off his back.

It’d been nearly three years and he had yet to get used to it. He kept his face carefully passive, swallowed, and did his best to focus on the princesses walking ahead of them.

Zelda had a pair of handmaidens sweep in to tend to her dress when they began their march back to the temple grounds- lifting the heavy blue fabric off the ground as they walked. She and Mipha were talking; their voices weren’t loud enough for him to make out amidst the sound of music drifting across the open fields, or the chatter of people. But, at least, it looked as though they still got along well regardless of what happened in Zora’s Domain.

(Link eyed the cliff sides. Empty. The Sheikah had vanished overnight; there wasn’t a hint of their excavations left. Their upturned stones were all put neatly back in place, and not even one dark figure lingered in the forests nearby. Wherever they retreated, he wasn’t sure- but knowing Purah it was somewhere far, far away from any noble. Maybe Rhoam specifically.)

Zelda’s coming of age was set to be the final event for the night. Men from high houses would be knighted, engagements announced, an array of inaugurations- including Link’s own as captain of the guard- and other things he considered too unimportant to remember.

Thus, it was five boring hours later that he was walking out of his room: throwing a dark hat onto his head. He was surprised to see his father was waiting for him in the hallway.

“You look like a paperboy,” he commented after evaluating him.

“Better than a rat. Do you have anything else to add?”

He stroked his chin, thinking hard. “...White looks good on you.”

What a compliment. Link raised his hand, looking at his pale gloves. “That’s what Urbosa said.”

“Not surprised. The woman’s got an eye for fashion.” He sighed and changed the subject, “His Majesty wanted me to give you a heads up. He’s going to announce your reward when you get officiated.”

Ah, yes, his strange reward for cutting off a Yiga’s arm.

That made him curious. “Which is?”

He waved his hands in fake celebration, his tone blatantly indifferent. “We’re nobility now. Yay.”

Link squinted, cocking his head. “...Why?”

A shrug.

“...That’s…”

“Boring? Yeah,” he carped as they began their walk to the abbey stairs. “Three hundred years of royal guardsmen, and I guess all it took was one of us becoming some cherub with a knife for them to bother with the paperwork.”

“Call me that again and I’m going to fire you,” Link warned.

His father laughed: the sound an echo in the stairwell. “Yessir.”

They split off near the Temple of Time’s entrance. It was the inbetween of small ceremonies; and when he stumbled upon his fellow Champions loitering outside those double doors, Urbosa took one glance at him before clucking her tongue disapprovingly.

She leaned forward, and like some sort of mother hen, parted his hair to the side. Revali didn’t laugh. He watched on, insufferably mocking, and somehow that was leagues worse than being jeered at. Link tried to hide the red embarrassment on his face as Urbosa stepped back to admire her work.

“It suits you, little guy,” Daruk tried his best to salvage some of Link’s dignity.

“I- I agree,” Mipha seconded that motion. “It really pulls the whole thing together!”

Urbosa crossed her arms, smiling triumphantly, and all he could do was sigh.

A church bell rang, summoning everyone lingering outside that temple back into it.

It wasn’t the king who would conduct the ceremony.

He stood off to the side, acting as a witness alongside all the guests when Link knelt before Captain Orwell. It was just beneath Hylia’s looming statue. Stained glass. Rays of light smeared across rough stone.

That aging man before him unwrapped a bright red scarf from around his own shoulders. The metallic emblem of the royal guard was attached to it: identical to the one which earned him a ticket into the tourney all those years ago- now his to give, to use at his whim. It had the texture of silk when Orwell draped it over the back of Link’s neck. The fabric was heavier than it looked, weighty as it trailed along the floor.

Orwell bowed his head low after he stood, and retreated into shadow: leaving him alone to soak up the light beneath Hylia’s visage.

Rhoam would fill the empty space at his side, spreading his arms wide as he addressed the silent crowd before them. Centuries of loyalty, he said. Strength. Hylia’s blessings. It all went out one ear and the other. He stared forward, eyes blank, and was very dimly aware of the king’s final words:

“We raise you to the house of Gautier,” Rhoam looked down at him, a hand once again on his shoulder. “On Hyrule’s behalf, I thank you for your family’s service.”

They were gifted land far to the East: near the coasts. In Hateno, he specified. His father’s own choice.

The crowd applauded, cheered, and that was the end of it.

An hour later, he stood along the sidelines next to his fellow Champions: still shrouded in crimson and obsidian. It felt strange wearing anything that wasn’t blue or gold.

Though, his attention was more focused on bare feet against stone. White fabric hung at her ankles. Thinner than her other dress. Lighter, floating like those curtains in his room. Link wondered if she felt out of place as well, standing in something other than her own tones of blue, brown, and gold.

Zelda was lowering to her knees:, legs folded beneath her and her spine bending forward until her hair was splayed across the space at Hylia’s feet. There were no hands tucked against her chest that time. Instead, her arms were extended past her head, palms against cobblestone as if she was reaching, crawling, or begging for something at the base of that statue.

It looked animal-like, to him. Lacking dignity.

There was a goblet in her hands. Drinking. Water pouring overhead. Splattering onto stone, and snaking down limbs. A setting sun: the waxy colors oversaturated, turning her dress red, blue, yellow, green. Her gold jewelry was too blinding. It felt ethereal, unnatural.

The look on her face when she stood was blank. Empty. Devoid of thought. That was unnatural for her, too. Their gazes would meet, one glassy stare taking in another, and they both knew none of what they were in that temple was right. Link itched for the feeling of grass beneath his fingertips- the push and pull of wind, dirt, flowers, vines, rivers. Anything with a soul to it.

He suddenly wanted to see a Guardian flickering to life: moving and responding. Understanding and listening to him, granting his requests. _Living-_

Hylia’s statue, nothing but lifeless rock. Deaf.

Zelda’s eyes finally broke away, and Link came out from some sort of trance: overwhelmed by a suspicion that few of those thoughts were actually his own. 

  


* * *

  


Impa was sipping tea, loudly.

Peppermint this time. Maybe a hint of chamomile- it was a flavor she couldn’t, and wouldn’t, do without.

(They’d finally roused the woman two-and-a-half hours after noon. It wasn’t until Paya resorted to waving the scent of a teapot towards Impa that she stuck her head out from her mound of pillows like a ghoul rising from its grave. He marveled at the sight. Link was almost convinced she’d drunken herself into a coma to rival his own century-long slumber, after all.)

He took a long drink of his own tea, tucked away in a corner- in the shadows. He watched the old woman from over the rim of his cup, both hands wrapped around the warm glass. She was thanking her granddaughter profusely.

“I kept you up all night with my blathering didn’t I? My darling, you must not hesitate to tear that bottle out of my hands if I grow too rowdy! I insist!”

“I- I promise you, it is fine! I hardly noticed.”

Placating. That girl was just too _placating._

He looked away, taking another long sip. 

“What are you doing over there, boy?” Impa demanded, finally turning her attention to him. “Isn’t it cold over there?”

“It is,” he agreed, still eyeing a strange painting on the wall. Guardians. Grass. Rough strokes. It irked him for some reason. Things always did that: irked him for some reason until he remembered why.

She chuckled, chiding in a way only an old woman could. “And yet you remain?”

Link’s eyes slid towards her, and his tone was as frigid as the autumn air outside the window, “I can’t help it.”

Her memory of that night must have been vivid. Medallions swayed as she flinched; it was almost as if the recollection of it slapped her in the face.

Paya’s eyes flicked between the two of them, disturbed by the jarring change in atmosphere.

“Darling,” Impa said, regaining her composure. “...I would hate to keep you from your evening. I assure you, I have been pampered enough today.”

“...Y-” Paya faltered, frowning deeply as she looked at him. Link wondered if he looked like a foul spirit himself, hunched in shadow and louring at the two of them. “Yes... I will return later.”

Before the young woman shuffled out the door, she mustered the courage to speak to him. “T-Thank you for your help today. I… I hope the tea soothed your headache.”

Link calmed, just a bit. All he could muster was a nod- something which she mimicked before skittering away: a mouse as always.

The door slid shut. Stairs creaked, growing distant. He would not move from his corner.

“Was it pity?” he questioned.

“Speak clearly,” the woman commanded. No patience. She never had any, did she? Even from the very beginning- before his death. Plenty of patience for Zelda, but none of it spared for him.

It was unfair.

“Keeping that promise. Saying you’d be here to talk,” somehow, his voice was level. Calm and reasonable. He felt like a band gone taught, and if he allowed his anger to slip through for even one moment he’d lose control entirely. “...Was all of this just pity?”

“I consider you family. I always have,” Impa’s tone was quiet. Meek, almost. Her tea was settled at her knees, now. She wouldn’t touch it.

He took another drink of his own, not looking at her. “It comes back to me often, you know. Walking home after talking to Zelda. I wanted to feel safe, so I left my post.”

Like a wounded animal limping into its burrow. Unable to do anything but lay in the dark, licking its wounds and praying the pain would subside.

“But then you showed up,” his cup of tea was almost empty. “Forced the truth out of me. I knew it was coming, but I resented you for years because you were the one to do it.”

“Do you still feel that way?” her voice was raspy when she finally spoke. Still quiet, and for a moment she sounded like her granddaughter: mouse-like. Timid.

_“Yes.”_

In his peripheral, he saw her head lower- her giant hat obscuring whatever reaction she had to that admittance. Setting down his cup, he added, “But only because the second time everything I built got destroyed, you weren’t the one to do it.”

Impa lifted her head. She was nothing but perplexed by that, and he could hardly blame her. He couldn’t make much sense of it himself, either.

His tone was still frigid. Maybe she could hear the hurt in it: creeping in, seeping through the cracks of all the walls he’d trapped it behind. “You gave me some cryptic, three day warning, and left me to get eaten by the wolves. Did you think it’d be enough, telling me I could ‘talk when I needed it’? Am I supposed to believe you ever cared about me when you just walked away?”

He was more trouble than he was worth, she’d always joke. But now the more insecure parts of him wondered if those words of hers were more than just a gibe.

She treated him like he was some sort of criminal in front of his house, and moved on to spend ten months tutoring him before the Champions’ ceremony: molding him into whatever it was the king wanted. She’d been strict, relentless in preparing him for all the responsibility he’d be saddled with.

Then, in Zora’s Domain she told him about his mother, assuaged his guilt and comforted him. She’d started to feel like an older sibling back then: a stern yet caring sister. It’d filled a void in him he wasn’t even aware existed.

How many messes did she clean up for him? Too many, he knew. But why? To protect their reputation, or to protect him?

Words came tumbling out of her, the old woman perhaps more guilt ridden than he realized.

“I couldn’t tell you because I cared too much,” Impa’s own voice was trembling, and he hated the sound. “I was under oath at the time. I intended to break it and tell you until I realized just how much you loved her… I am ashamed to admit that I retreated, and used that oath as an excuse to justify my cowardice. To myself.”

_‘That’s all I can say, Link.’_

It was all she could manage to say, that is.

“...I understand,” he mumbled, yet the bitterness would remain.

She’d been scared of hurting him. Just like he was scared of hurting Zelda by confessing how he really obtained his sword. Judging her for being afraid would be hypocritical, wouldn’t it?

“Link…” Impa’s voice pulled him from his thoughts. “Could you tell me… what decision did you come to?”

The look he sent her was utterly pathetic, defeated. She should have known it was ridiculous to even ask such a thing.

“The only one I could, Impa,” his voice cracked- broken. It wasn’t his anger he couldn’t control; it wasn’t the band that threatened to snap. It was his impulse to sit there and whimper like the wounded animal he was. “You _know_ me!”

The needles were there again, and he almost marveled at how painful they felt: tearing at the space between his lungs. It left him breathless, and he could feel it radiate into his head- his ears pounding and his vision blurred from more than just the tears forming.

He saw her standing, removing her hat as he drew his knees to his chest and buried his face into his arms in shame. Floorboards creaked when the old woman approached, and soon, a small hand was on his shoulder as she joined him beneath that cold window. There were murmured sympathies. Abject apologies.

Amidst it all, he managed to choke it out, to finally voice it for what he suspected may have been the first time in his life.

“I couldn’t- I couldn’t be _king,_ Impa.”

  


* * *

  


Urbosa was chugging a pint of something foul.

“Give it a rest,” she was jabbing a finger at Revali. Some of her graceful exterior was slipping, most likely due to the abhorrent amount of wine she’d consumed in the last ten minutes. “Will you just admit you’re sensitive and move on?”

A wing was being swiped. Link wasn’t sure what the gesture was supposed to be, what with that Rito well on his way to being completely inebriated. _“Me?!”_ he squawked. _“Sensitive?!”_

“All that altar boy did was point out that you have big eyebrows!” she sat back, rolling her eyes skyward. “All the Goddesses, you haven’t shut up about it for an hour!”

“They’re not _eyebrows!”_ he smacked the table. A drink tumbled. “Rito don’t have _eyebrows!”_

Daruk sat mere feet away, eyeing their argument and most likely wondering if he shouldn’t try to defuse it or roll off somewhere far enough he wouldn’t have to listen to it. Link was considering the same: walking off somewhere else. There was a moment Daruk seemed to implore him for help with a lingering stare, but he merely shook his head and waved his hand rapidly.

_Absolutely not._

The Goron sighed and went about eating his pile of rock roasts: a gift left by Purah before she and her cohorts vanished somewhere into Central Hyrule. It was a bribe, really. Link wasn’t the only one that woman baited into her services using food.

Link wasn’t sure there was anywhere he would run off to that wasn’t filled with loud chatter. Even the rafters of the temple were occupied by Mipha and her acquaintances, whispering as if they were scheming something. Though it was more likely they were the only guests on that Plateau who had the decency not to make a racket inside a church.

He slumped a little further against the temple walls, tired and unsure of how to occupy himself.

Where was Zelda, he wondered?

The girl had disappeared after her strange ceremony: dragged out the doors by a gaggle of nuns.

Still busy with their duties, his new imperial underlings hadn’t gotten a chance to pester him yet, or make fun of the hair Urbosa repeatedly fixed every time it got messy again. She’d been appalled by how his own hair seemed to have a mind of its own: always looking windswept or sticking off in different directions as though he really was some sort of dirty rodent.

It was a good thing he had a hat on. Maybe he should keep it.

Suddenly, a hand was on Link’s shoulder. 

His head jerked to the right- surprised by the sudden contact. He hadn’t noticed anyone approaching, but he understood why the moment he took in just who it was. A Sheikah. One he didn’t recognize- or couldn’t due to his mask.

The man loomed over him, bowing his head in apology. 

“Pardon. His Majesty requests your presence, Champion.”

Oh, great.

The anxiety bubbled up again, but he kept his face passive and nodded. Daruk’s chewing slowed as he watched from their table, perhaps just as wary as Link. He could only offer the barest shrug to convey his own confusion before the Sheikah would lead him to the king.

Scaffolding led to the roof of the Temple of Time. Its construction felt weak, the steps creaking beneath his feet as he marched up. His guide’s scarf lifted from his shoulders as they reached the stair’s end- the wind almost strong enough to tear Link’s own hat from his head. He was quickly forced to take it off.

So much for Urbosa’s hard work.

It was red he saw first. The king had discarded his blue colors: nothing but warmth and dark tones of coal. 

Rhoam stood in the hollow of a steeple, looking out through its windows.

“Your Majesty, he is here,” his Sheikah guide addressed Rhoam, and bowed when he faced them. A thank you was said by the king before he departed, leaving the two of them to stare uncomfortably at each other.

The man spread out his arm. “Join me, will you?”

He hesitated, and then walked.

“How do you feel about your reward?” he questioned as Link climbed the stairs.

“I’m thankful, Your Majesty,” was his response. Hands were behind his back. Shoulders set straight. Etiquette left him stiff and his words empty.

Rhoam disapproved of his demeanor rather than his words. “Come now, even I tire of propriety.”

Link’s hands fell to his sides. Nodding with satisfaction, the man turned his gaze to the vast land of the North. The castle could be seen: a spiked silhouette in the orange glare of twilight.

“I used to bring my wife here,” Rhoam muttered. “When we were still young.”

“...It’s a nice view, Your Majesty,” it was all he could muster, growing more confused by the second.

What on Earth was this?

He breathed deep, taking in the crisp air.

“You should know, my court did not object when I suggested your family be raised.”

“That surprises me, Your Majesty.”

“There’s no need,” he looked at him again, shrugging. “I could drone on about conduct and dedication, but I believe I already made a speech or two about that... However, even without such things it would be expected. You are, after all, the most blessed individual in this kingdom aside from my daughter… and where would my own family be if not for the Goddess’ favor?”

Nowhere, probably.

“I said I was proud of your accomplishments, and I will have you know I meant it.”

Had he ever said those words to his daughter?

Regardless of his disapproval, Link bowed his head, murmuring thanks. Upon rising again, he decided he’d listened to enough of the king’s one-sided conversation. “Your Majesty, may I ask why you’ve brought me here?”

“Ah,” he chuckled. “Pardon, I don’t intend to keep you from your companions for long. I merely had a simple question for you.”

Link waited, expectant.

“Tell me, what do you think of my daughter?”

His response to that was rather blunt. “...I don’t understand the question, Your Majesty.”

He raised his eyebrows and mulled over how to better phrase it. Rhoam brought a hand to his chin. It was almost amusing, the way he insisted, “Now… this may be strange, but I ask that you be perfectly candid with me, yes? No matter your response, I assure you I won’t mind.”

Link couldn’t stop himself from shifting his weight nervously. He managed a confirmation- a vow of honesty.

“I see clearly that she is fond of you, yes? I am curious to know if you would fancy her yourself?”

Blank. His mind stalled abruptly.

 _Fancy?_ Did the king of Hyrule just ask him if he was attracted to his daughter?

Swallowing, he choked out, “Your Majesty, I promise I’d never-”

A hand was waved. “I am hardly concerned about that.”

“Then- why…?”

(He stood wider; Rhoam’s shadow covered him completely, and it made Link feel small. Oh, how he hated that; it was a rare thing for him to feel so powerless. How many years had he spent challenging Lynels without a shred of doubt? Charging into thunderstorms?

Terry was right; anything that he couldn’t overcome with a weapon was too much for him. And the last thing he could ever do was fix any of the problems Rhoam inflicted upon him with something sharp or deadly.)

The man sounded sure of himself. There was a hint of wonder in his tone, as well, as if it was something to marvel at. “When you returned from my daughter’s pilgrimage, and I witnessed the two of you standing together in my sanctum, I had a vision of sorts…” he spread his hands, painting some kind of vivid picture, “you, leading our people with my daughter at your side.”

There was a pause. “I would say… this is your reward. Your true reward, that is. I would like to give you the opportunity to step forward and become the heir to our country’s throne.”

Link remained silent, trying to process his words- to understand, to interpret, but he went on, giving him no opportunity to catch up.

“It would take time, of course. I imagine you would be prepared for the role in perhaps ten, fifteen years?” he was thinking, rambling to himself, almost. “I see already that you have an easy time grasping the tasks of a commander. It would be the political side of things we would need to educate you on, certainly-”

 _“Why?”_ He didn’t mean to interrupt him. Rhoam wasn’t fazed; he was patient when he raised an eyebrow. He’d learned to be patient all these years, hadn’t he? “After everything I’ve done?”

The king moved silently, swiftly towards him. Link stayed rooted where he was. The castle was there after Rhoam moved- the man no longer blocking his view of it. A hand was in his peripheral, and it presented that distant capital to him as if it was some sort of temptation on the horizon.

“Because you have risen above it.” Rhoam’s other hand was on his shoulder, his voice a rumble in his ear. “I follow my instincts, just as you do, and this is what the Goddess tells me is right.”

Link stood mute. No words were on his tongue, let alone in his head.

His back straightened again.

“It is a monumental decision, I understand... Take time to think on it, boy, and give me your answer when you return from Lanayru.”

“...I will, Your Majesty,” his voice was hollow, and he imagined his expression was, too.

He regarded Link with a sharp glare, and delivered a final blow that would tear some sort of reaction out of him.

“It is because I have considered this future for you that I have not separated you from my daughter already. The way you look at each other… well, I’m afraid it’s not something I can allow to continue if you choose to turn down my offer.”

_‘I don’t like the way you look at each other.’_

Didn’t his father say something similar?

The man stepped away to peer out the arched windows. This was a perspective he was used to, wasn’t it? Looking down over crowds below, high and out of reach: Forever on a pedestal.

How many times had he stood behind some pane of glass, spying on him and Zelda and taking in all the secret glances they would exchange? The smiles. The barest touches as they passed each other.

 _‘Playing dumb.’_ How long had he been playing dumb?

Link wondered if he could see the panic flash across his face. Rhoam’s eyes narrowed. Of course he could. Of course. _Of course-_

“My daughter’s happiness matters greatly to me,” he remarked, “Although tradition states that she will not marry for three more years, I shall be presenting our list of candidates for her to choose from very soon.”

Some sort of exasperated, knowing sound escaped him. “Any contact between you two will only disrupt that process, I am sure.”

_Choose wisely._

Those were the words he left behind. 

Link would remain. He couldn’t remember much of how he felt. All he knew was that he was lightheaded. Sick. Something churning in his stomach- maybe his dinner. It was hard to focus his eyes on anything.

All those words just weren’t going through his head right. Rhoam had said too much. That man always prattled on endlessly. What? Did he love the sound of his own voice? He felt it’d take weeks for his mind to sort through that measly three minute conversation alone.

The only thing Link succeeded in doing was catching himself before his legs gave out. His hand was on the window to support him. The glass was cool, probably, but he couldn’t feel it beneath his gloves. White. There was a head of white hair far, far below in the courtyard. 

Impa.

She stood motionless in the crowd of bustling people: arms folded across her chest as she gazed up at him, and it almost looked like she was hugging herself. The woman’s face was unreadable from a distance. He was certain she saw him clearly, however; he was too overwrought to mask anything, even in his posture.

The woman was there to talk as she promised, yet he refused.

The memory of leaving that roof escaped him. He wasn’t even sure how he wound up wandering near the entrance to the River of Dead. Maybe it was cold that he wanted: something biting that could pull him out of his own head. He almost wished someone was there to slap him; his mind always felt clearer when people did that, for some reason.

Boots were in his vision, one after the other as he trudged up the grassy slope. They were stained by dirt, no longer white.

“Link?”

He froze.

Slowly, he lifted his head. Zelda was by herself: leaning against the river’s stone archway. Her hands were behind her- palms pressed into its rough surface as the wind pulled at her hair. Round eyes were blinking.

She’d run from the crowds, too, had she?

“Are you alright?” she questioned, and pushed off to approach him.

Her feet were still bare. Still in her white dress, too. Night was falling, and the Eastern sky behind her was nothing but a swath of black.

“I’m… dizzy,” he said when she came to a halt in front of him.

Her mouth quirked into something mirthful. Arms crossed. “Did you drink too much? I know for a fact Urbosa is a terrible influence in the realm of spirits.”

“...She’s busy yelling at Revali.”

“I imagine that’s going well.”

“Daruk’s there.”

“I feel sorry for him. Someone ought to rescue him.”

“Not me.”

“Not me, either.”

A laugh. From him. 

Three more years. He thought they’d have three more years together. Now, nothing.

A hand raked over his face.

“...Are you alright?” her voice again. That question again.

Silence.

“Link?”

“No.”

“What’s-”

She was in his arms before she could finish, his hug crushing. Zelda was asking something strained in his ear: pained, and confused. He couldn’t see anything besides a curtain of blonde hair- the ends of a white dress. Her hands drifted upwards, fingertips drawn across his back. The girl was trying to comfort him, maybe trying to encourage an answer.

He should have found solace in it, he wanted to, but her touch became unbearable. 

When heat flared, it was instant. Every part of him that made contact with her burned. The breath on his neck was like hot metal searing and pressing against his skin- his hands buried in coals. Blistering, sweltering- maybe the lava in Death Mountain finally caught up to him.

It felt like he was melting.

Shoving Zelda away was involuntary, really. The girl stumbled backwards several steps, her mouth open in shock. There was hurt there, too. Distress. It wasn’t worth it: the itching and burning didn’t stop.

“Link?”

“I’m sorry,” he blurted, apologizing for too many things at once.

Zelda was stubborn. She took a step forward: worry everywhere on her face, a hand extended towards him. He backed away again, just out of reach- frightened of her. He was sure there was fear everywhere on his face, too.

Her eyes were wide, searching, picking him apart as best she could; but she couldn’t find an answer on her own.

“Say something,” she pleaded, her voice a gentle whisper. “...What’s wrong?”

Link couldn’t stand to look at her, and a moment later, the princess wasn’t in his sights anymore. Her voice was behind him now: farther up the hill as he walked away.

 _Come back,_ Zelda was yelling, calling his name.

Again, and again, and again, and eventually, her voice was just too distant to make out.

  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 3\. The drama is everywhere in this chapter. Purah is somehow one of probably 3 people in this fic who haven't caused a thousand problems for Link
> 
> 4\. I want to add more Daruk content. He'll probably show up more in the next chapter or two lol


	20. For Better or Worse

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. Hoo boy this one is a little longer. It didn't feel right splitting it into yet another chapter, so here we are with 36 pages.  
> 2\. I had immense fun with one part of this story I bet you can all pick it out the second you see it  
> 3\. HEY guess who made a whoopsie and assumed no one could get to the Shrine of Courage??? Me. So. I've gone back and put an excuse in Wax and Wings and called it a day LOL

That night, Link had a simple solution for his problems.

The uniform was stuffy. The gloves stiff. He’d tear them off: tear away the blue and red of his tunic until there was nothing but a black undershirt left. Into the bushes they went- somewhere, he didn’t know where. That was better; he felt cooler, the chilled air subduing some of the heat that remained buzzing beneath his skin.

Urbosa was complaining loudly- furiously. Maybe it was about his messy hair again, or maybe about the fact that he was snatching a mug from her hand and walking off with her precious wine.

He was never a drinker. Even being so resistant to poisons and other inebriating substances, a single cup of that woman’s alcohol was enough to leave him collapsed in the middle of the forest: his back against a tree, the canopies spinning. Light and heavy at the same time, that’s how his head felt. Something off center. Everything was off center.

Admittedly, the mug was big. Felt big. He tapped it against his forehead, holding it against his face.

Might’ve been as big as his head? That was interesting. How big was his head, exactly? He should have it measured, later. Purah would be good for the job. No, maybe Robbie.

...Urbosa’s hair was bigger than his head, he’d bet.

It’d been an hour- maybe three or twelve. A day? No, no, it couldn't have been long. His throat was still burning, after all. That drink was the most foul thing he’d ever tasted: worse than the frog Zelda bribed him into licking.

Disgusted, Link flung the empty mug somewhere into the forest. He had no particular target; he expected it to smack into a tree or two, but that wasn’t the case. It sounded like a person who took the brunt of it: squawking in pain. Leaves rustled and branches snapped. Did they fall over?

Cursing.

Revali?

Cackling.

Urbosa, without a doubt.

He blinked and two figures were standing over him.

“There he is,” a Gerudo crowed. “Found you.”

“What is your problem?!” A bird was shouting at him, irate. There might’ve been a welt forming on his head where the mug had hit him. A smug grin crept onto Link’s face, and he could have sworn Revali’s feathers stood on end in all his anger. Like a hissing cat.

“My, you’re a lightweight, aren’t you?” Even in the darkness Urbosa’s amusement was clear as day. Link’s grin twisted into a scowl. “Are you even conscious, boy?”

The woman’s hand waved in front of his face. He swatted at it and missed.

Their figures were looming. He hated it. He stumbled to his feet, a hand against bark, and another on his forehead. Urbosa’s own hands were on her hips now, still peering down her nose at him with an arched eyebrow. She was enjoying the show far too much for his taste.

A lip curled; he just wasn’t tall enough, was he? The tree. Link was considering climbing the tree. She wouldn’t be able to stare down at him like that if he was higher, right? That was a good plan. His best plan yet.

He was tugged back down by his hair the second he grabbed a branch. 

_“Ah, ah!_ Don’t you try to run,” his newly appointed Gerudo chaperone very quickly nipped that scheme in the bud. 

Revali waved Link’s discarded tankard in his face before he could even begin to complain.

“I have half a mind to throw this back at you,” his warning didn’t match the derisive look on his face.

Waving a dismissive wing, the Rito shifted into some sort of puffed up pose. Annoying. The undercurrent of laughter in his voice made Link want to choke him again. 

“But, _Hylia,_ this is just so pitiful! The _Hero_ of Hyrule, so drunk he can’t even see straight? I’ll have to jot this down for the records... Oh! Where’s the _princess?_ I bet she’d love to see-”

As it turned out, rage did wonders for his accuracy. His hand shot out in a blur, yanking Revali towards him by his scarf so he could snarl:

“You spit _one more word,_ you overgrown vulture, and I'll grind your beak off with Robbie’s _bladesaw.”_

__The venom in his tone surprised even him and, apparently, Revali. His hostage stammered, saying something, but it was lost on Link when his stomach churned violently. The movement was too much too fast: he suddenly felt nauseous._ _

__He’d never heard Revali screech so loud._ _

__No doubt the smell would never come out of his scarf._ _

__The sky rolled. Link was on his back, maybe, the sound of a wailing Rito ringing in his ears. Everything felt upside down._ _

_“Quit screaming, already-”_

_“...is silk!”_

_“...dramatic-”_

__Daylight. An even worse taste in his mouth._ _

__Link sat up, sheets under the palm of his hand, and glanced around him. He was in his room: curtains were fluttering as light poured in through the windows. Someone was sitting in a chair by the door. He blinked away the haze of bright colors and red hair and easily identified the trespasser as Urbosa herself._ _

__“...Hi,” was his best, cautious greeting._ _

The woman smirked and cooed as if she was speaking to a sleepy toddler, “Good morning! Sleep well?” 

__His response was blunt and unamused, “I have a headache.”_ _

__“You’re young, you’ll shake it off soon enough,” Urbosa scoffed, unconcerned as she rose to her feet._ _

__The noise that came out of him was a groan: frustrated, exasperated, and revolted all at once. There was water by his bedside, and he downed it, hoping to wash the taste of alcohol and bile out of his mouth. It didn’t work very well._ _

__When he set the glass down, Link watched Urbosa inspect her nails. He couldn’t understand what was so fascinating about them._ _

__“Would you like to know what kind of drunk you are?” the woman offered kindly, breezily._ _

__“No.”_ _

__Gracious as ever, she enlightened him anyway._ _

“Emotional. Talkative.” She paused, exaggerating her final words, _“Weepy,_ too.” 

_“Weepy?”_

__“Very.”_ _

__His head was in his hands._ _

__“Revali-”_ _

__“Don’t you worry, he was gone by the time you started sobbing in my lap. He needed to wash off all that dinner of yours, you see.”_ _

__This was humiliating._ _

_“...Hylia.”_

__Teeth were showing. She was grinning from ear to ear. Link swallowed, and forced out a vague question, “What… what exactly was I upset about?”_ _

__Both of her eyebrows raised. She finally nestled her hand into the crook of her crossed arms- blue nails no longer the target of inspection. He blanched. Everything. He told her everything, didn’t he?_ _

__Link swung his legs off the edge of his mattress and blurted, “Did you tell anyone?!”_ _

__She waved a hand as if that was offensive._ _

__“I’m not even surprised,” she remarked._ _

__“Which- Which part, exactly?”_ _

__Urbosa mulled that over. “Your relationship. I had a feeling the both of you got along too well.” Some sort of chuckle came out of her, “Though, I admit I was fairly certain it was inevitable when you departed from my city… But marriage? I must say our king is a visionary.”_ _

__Link had no desire to discuss any of it. “What do you want, Urbosa?”_ _

__“Your plan.”_ _

_“My_ plan,” he repeated, mocking. “I have no plan.” 

__“Ah, yes. I had a suspicion you didn’t when you decided drinking yourself silly was the best course of action,” her tone was also mocking._ _

__He rolled his eyes, already tired of it. “What do you think I should’ve done? Make a decision overnight?”_ _

__“You say that as if you haven’t come to a decision already,” Urbosa pursed her lips, incredulous._ _

__“...Right,” he muttered. He’d known his answer the moment Rhoam presented it to him, and there was no doubt he explained that to her in detail. “Then what are you asking?”_ _

__She pushed off the door, taking several steps forward to glare down at him. Her words were slow, deliberate, and threatening. It made him lean away, if only by an inch. “I am asking… When and how you plan to tell her.”_ _

__“I don’t want to tell her,” his reply was immediate, hollow._ _

__“You’ll have to eventually.”_ _

__“Not yet.”_ _

__“When?”_ _

__“After Lanayru.”_ _

__“Why?”_ _

__“It’s too important to her.”_ _

__“Aren’t you, as well?”_ _

__“That’s why.”_ _

__Her finger was tapping against her arm, contemplative. “...You’re telling me you plan on letting her know mere days before you’re permanently separated?”_ _

__Link was standing now, baffled. “What else am I supposed to do?”_ _

__“She won’t have time to come to terms...” Urbosa countered, slinking towards his window. She stared out as she continued, harsh, “You must tell her soon if you have any respect for her.”_ _

__Soon? How could he?_ _

Mipha. Mipha’s words came back to him. _‘One hurtful truth.’_ A bleeding heart. 

__Link smothered those thoughts, rebuking, “She needs to be focused.”_ _

“Don’t _deflect,_ boy.” 

__“I’m serious, this is too important for her to be distracted.”_ _

__“How can she not when you’re behaving like this?”_ _

His head was pounding. That itching feeling was returning, like scabs over a burn. “Urbosa, it’s too _early_ for this.” 

__In more ways than one, really._ _

__Link sat back down on his bed: elbows on his knees. Something was crawling up his back; it was her eyes. He could feel her staring at him, evaluating and picking him apart._ _

__He fully expected Urbosa to argue further, yet the woman backed down. “...It is a difficult situation.”_ _

__Perhaps she was sympathetic to his blatant inability to do anything more than flounder, but he wouldn’t grace that astute observation with a response. A sigh of her own could be heard before Link mumbled a question:_ _

__“Is she ok?”_ _

__Shoving her. Walking away. There was nothing but shame washing over him. He needed to apologize. Though, he wasn’t sure how when the thought of even looking at her made him squirm with apprehension._ _

__“I’m not sure... As far as I know, she spent the night outdoors with Daruk and Mipha. Talking, I’d say.”_ _

“You stayed here?” Link frowned, perplexed as he glanced over his shoulder. “With _me?”_

__Pauldrons lifted and fell with a shrug. “I’m sure she would have sent me away if I tried to leave you alone. She saw us drag you back in, after all.”_ _

__Guilt raked through him. Whatever sound escaped him was probably nothing short of distraught as he fell back onto the bed, hands over his eyes. Silence passed. Five, ten, twenty, forty seconds before Urbosa uttered a command:_ _

__“Get out.”_ _

__Link’s hands raised so he could stare at her, confusion evident in the knit of his brow. An uncharacteristic word escaped him. “...Pardon?”_ _

__Urbosa turned to face him, her stance wide. She almost looked angry. “You’ll wallow in here all day unless someone throws you out. You will have free reign until noon when our king departs. The remaining guests have all departed, as well.”_ _

__She rounded the bed, hands on her hips. Earrings swayed when she bent over to grab his arm and pull him unwillingly to his feet. Link stumbled as the woman went on, “Wander around, break something if you must. I will not allow you back in this abbey until nightfall, is that clear?”_ _

__“I can’t-”_ _

__His sword was thrown onto the mattress._ _

__“You’re better than this,” Urbosa stated._ _

__Link stared at her- marvelling at the sheer confidence in her face. The faith._ _

__“Go,” the woman insisted one final time, “now.”_ _

__His mouth hung at Impa’s command._ _

“Go... _where?”_

__“Wherever you must,” she provided rather candidly. Impa stood after patting his cheek a little roughly. They were still flushed from his breakdown. Still damp. “Find the rest of that memory. There are places you have yet to visit, no?”_ _

__He shook his head, rubbing a gloved hand over his eyes, trying to erase the evidence of it all. “I’ve… gone everywhere in the Slate.”_ _

__“Even Lanayru?”_ _

__“...Even Lanayru.”_ _

__He expected her to fall into a disappointed silence to match his own, yet she tapped a fist into the flat of her palm, hard. “Then go again.”_ _

__The lanterns were in his sights. He wouldn’t look at Impa, or share in her conviction. “I don’t want to remember.”_ _

_“Link.”_

__“They’re about to die,” he murmured, unblinking as his gaze remained fixated on those flickering candles. There was a dull pain in his chest, the needles finally growing blunt. He was keenly aware of it, counting down the seconds, praying they’d go away for once. “It already hurts enough.”_ _

__She didn’t have a response for that._ _

__“I haven’t had time to mourn like the rest of you,” Link defended. “It’s only been three years since I woke up. I didn’t have a century.”_ _

__“Do you think Zelda has had time?”_ _

__Slowly, he looked up at her. “...That’s cruel, Impa.”_ _

__“She mourns,” the woman paid no mind to his words, “through you. With you.”_ _

__He would ask why it couldn’t wait until after._ _

__Blood moons would come and go, erasing all of their efforts. Thousands, it had to be: the monsters and the Guardians he’d cut to pieces. It made him furious each and every month to stand in the ruins of Castle Town, watching machinery spiral out of those colossal towers- crawling like devils out of a fissure in the Earth._ _

__Zelda’s power was dwindling; that princess could hardly spare a shred of it to reach out to him, to speak, or to explain herself. Instead, he would receive nothing but orders from an array of unfamiliar voices invading his head- marionetting him._ _

__Conquer them all: shrines, memories, towers, and Beasts._ _

__Three years and counting and only two of those were crossed off his list._ _

__Impa merely shook her head. She didn't know, of course. Only Zelda knew the reasons why. He’d come to understand the princess’ lifelong frustration all too well: what with not being able to pry an answer out of a Goddess._ _

__The woman padded over to her hat, groaning as she bent to pick it up. “Come now,” she chortled as the thing plopped back onto her head, “you’ve always been the curious type. What is our princess hiding, hm?”_ _

__He pouted at that, refusing to fall for it._ _

__“Regardless of the way things ended for you two, she is far from cruel herself. Something is there, I am certain of it.” Impa argued further, trying a different angle. “...You have faith in her, do you not? You would have sprinted off to that castle long ago if you didn’t.”_ _

__His teeth grit together, stubborn as he glared down at the Slate._ _

_One more._

__It was a pleading sigh: a sough like wind through a tunnel. However, something knowing was in it. Something devious. Impish._ _

__Link stared at the rafters, wonderstruck at the sound of her voice. It’d been mute for six months- drowned out by the monster thrashing, fighting against her iron grip._ _

__“...One more?”_ _

_Please, Link._

__Impa was watching him as she climbed back onto her cushions, intrigued by that muttering of his._ _

__“She said… one more memory,” he provided in a distant tone._ _

__Silence. And then:_ _

__“That settles it then.”_ _

__It did. He was, after all, weak to her requests even after a century._ _

__Link held the woman’s expectant stare for several seconds before breaking away, fingers wrapping around his scabbard before he got to his feet and strode off- slinging that blade onto his back. The door slid open. Its frame ground against floorboards as cold air enveloped him. Briefly, however, he looked back._ _

__“Thank…” his voice trailed off._ _

__Impa was already snoring._ _

__Link couldn’t help the weak laugh that escaped him, and when he closed that door, it was as quietly as he could. It was a shame she’d never met the Deku Tree, he thought; the two of them would get along swimmingly, he was sure._ _

__He had his Slate out already, flicking through the map when a voice called out to him._ _

__“M-Master Link!”_ _

__Paya was standing near the Goddess statue. A hand was over her mouth as if she hadn’t intended to say anything at all. The Slate lowered, and soon Link was trotting down the stairs. She was looking every which way, of course, clearly regretting those impulsive words._ _

__He came to a stop in front of her, hands on hips, and waited for the young woman to speak._ _

__“I- are you leaving?” she managed. “Already?”_ _

__“Impa kicked me out,” he stated._ _

__Worry overpowered her shyness and she took a step forward, adjusting her basket at her elbow. “Did you argue? Please, I can talk to her-”_ _

__A hand waved, but it was good natured. Link smiled, trying to calm her. “We just talked.”_ _

__“Your face- it’s swollen! Did she smack you? Hylia, she can get so strict sometimes-”_ _

__He cleared his throat, shaking his head rapidly. “It’s cold- Paya, it’s fine.”_ _

__“Oh… I’m sorry,” she wilted, embarrassed by all her fussing. Goddess, he wasn’t sure how to handle her._ _

__Link observed her. The deep frown, the worry that never seemed to leave her. He was going to tell her there was nothing to apologize for, yet another thought occurred to him. “You’re like your grandma, you know?”_ _

__She blinked, her eyes as wide as the one on her forehead._ _

__“You go about it differently, but you’re both born mediators.”_ _

__Paya’s gaze flicked to the grass, a little dazed by that claim of his. A finger was grazing over her mouth in consideration, “...You think..?”_ _

__Maybe he was in a daze, as well, thinking too hard. “You’re like Zelda, too.”_ _

__That shocked her. Paya’s gaze snapped back to him, utterly bewildered._ _

__He looked away, huffing. A cuckoo was strutting by, and gave him a rather offensive look before flapping off in a panic. Cado could stand to make his fence a little higher, honestly._ _

__“You spoil everyone... I wonder if she raised you the same way, or maybe Impa just rubs off on people. Even Purah, a little,” he scratched at his head, tossing the subject aside. “It doesn’t matter. I should get going- thanks again for the soup.”_ _

__“W-Wait!” she squeaked, and started frantically rummaging around in her basket. “Here! You’ll need dinner, too!”_ _

__She held out a box, her face redder than her makeup. The scent told him it was something spicy; for the cold. He gave her a withered, amused look._ _

_‘You’re proving my point,’_ it said. 

__Her mouth twisted into a frown, and she shook the box, yapping, “This is me being strict! Take it!”_ _

__Link snatched it away, and it dissolved into blue: preserved in his Slate. “Tyrants, all of you,” he snipped._ _

__That earned a grin, and seconds later he was gone, leaving Kakariko in peace._ _

__Weeks, it took. Searching, wandering, standing in one place, tapping his foot: praying something would occur to him. A flash, a feeling. Anything. At one point, he was on the Plateau, arms spread out as he laid beneath the remnants of Urbosa’s crumbling gazebo. Lazily, he was stuffing roasted truffles in his mouth, glaring at the birds circling overhead._ _

__He felt like he was wasting his time._ _

__But a deal was a deal, wasn’t it?_ _

__Outskirts Stable was where he discovered his first lead. He’d been buying arrows from Beedle when a piece of gossip caught his attention. Toffa, the resident elder, was speaking with one of the stable girls about a strange horse- which, of course, piqued his interest. Link quickly handed a gold rupee to Beedle- along with an insect to finally get him off his back (the merchant could smell them on him somehow, he was sure) and crept up on Toffa._ _

__It was unintentional, but the action gave him quite the scare, and Link was momentarily frightened that he’d sent the old man to the afterlife before he could interrogate him. A walking stick was waved threateningly. And, after a brief scolding for his sneaky behavior, the old man was soon inspecting him._ _

__“You’re good with horses?” he inquired, deliberative._ _

__Link very simply gestured to a horse standing by the trees. Black, orange. Large enough to carry even Daruk. The animal stomped on a log: splintering it in half with ease._ _

__“There’s no one better,” he deadpanned, completely and utterly serious._ _

__Needless to say, he was very quickly given the location of this mysterious horse. A gold mane, he recited, pure white. Elusive. The way he babbled on about it was almost as if he regarded it as a unicorn: something sacred. Link couldn’t fault him; he felt the same way, hearing about it._ _

__He exchanged his horse for one that was faster and galloped off without a wasted second._ _

__He’d been to that park before, gazing out at a rising sun, eyes flicking between the picture on his Slate and that crack of light on the horizon. Nothing had come to him back then._ _

__Try again, Impa had encouraged. Something would show, she claimed._ _

__Instinct might have been what told him there was truth to that statement of hers. There was a tension in him: an urgency. The sun was setting. He needed to get there soon- otherwise, he’d miss it._ _

__Whatever it was, he couldn’t miss it._ _

__Luckily, the distance was no more than a ten minute ride. Grass was torn as his mount skidded to a halt, and he stumbled off- his attention locked onto a horse, rearing up, encased in stone. He could already feel that memory unraveling in his mind when he ran up that hill; a sense of conviction, something tipping on its axis._ _

__Link’s breath was uneven when he finally reached that cobblestone. The horse was there, hooves clopping against brick: it’s nose pointed at the horizon as wind rose from the valley below. The shifting of his feet, dirt scraping, was all it took for that animal’s neck to bend toward him._ _

__It evaluated him for a heartbeat- his own in his ears- and loftily trudged to the side as if it was simply moving out of his way._ _

__It was blinding: the flame-like colors blanketing Hyrule. Link’s eyes squeezed shut as a wince escaped him, and he recoiled from it- from the images flittering behind his eyes._ _

__“Right…of course,” he spoke to himself, breath shuddering, and a hand over his eyes. “What else could I have done?”_ _

  


* * *

  


__The pain was subsiding. Mipha’s hand sat pressed against his forehead, his mind fuzzy. Whatever she was doing numbed the effects of last night's debauchery. His shoulders slumped, tired when she stepped back from him._ _

__“How’s that?” she probed. “Is that better?”_ _

__“It’s a relief,” he sighed. “I couldn’t see straight.”_ _

__“Last night you couldn’t either,” she teased._ _

__“...How much did you see?” he wilted even further, practically whimpering._ _

__The girl smiled, “I only saw from a distance. Revali was… well he was rather distraught over the state of his Champion’s garb as Urbosa shooed you into the abbey. He begged Zelda desperately to help him clean it.”_ _

__He must have looked embarrassed again, because Mipha patted the side of his face, comforting. “Now, now, everyone has their nights. And from what I can gather, it sounds like something terrible enough happened to justify the state of you.”_ _

__Link would ask her what she knew, which turned out to be surprisingly little. Zelda refused to give details to either her or Daruk. The princess spared twenty words to convey that he was far from the right mind and not a single more._ _

__The Goron noted to them that the king may have had a hand in it, and it was something which plunged their Hylian princess into a lingering, grim silence for the remainder of that night._ _

__Zelda was smart and frustratingly intuitive when it came to him; he had no doubt she was already onto a thing or two. It was a fact which prompted Urbosa’s argument to replay itself in her mind. Waiting until after Lanayru was already impossible, wasn’t it? Needless to say, he was at a complete loss._ _

__“I’ll be here,” Mipha offered quietly. He nodded despite knowing the last person he would speak with regarding that matter was her._ _

__It may only serve to pain her, and the girl’s feelings aside, Link already knew what she would tell him to do:_ _

__The same thing he was already doing. Cutting it all off._ _

__He did as Urbosa commanded by wandering every which way. Abbey to abbey, chucking sticks into forests, and collapsing onto stone benches. It was still three hours before noon when he sat in that massive hallway: staring up at the vivid imagery of the glass above._ _

__(A cherub. It had an impish grin on its face, golden curls, and wide eyes. If anyone fit the description of a cherub with a knife, it was Zelda- the girl always hiding one in her boot, her bag, or her sleeve with a different excuse for each one.)_ _

__Link was sitting in the same building he’d wounded Reed’s pride in. The silence was irritating; he actually wished it’d been filled with music again. The thought made his eyes twitch. He hated to admit he enjoyed that bard’s music so much._ _

__Though, he couldn’t help it, could he? It held fond memories to him._ _

__That may have been the catalyst of it all. The Wetland Stables: the place where he ruined everything. Akkala, too. Death Mountain. He thought about them all, wondering which was the final nail in the coffin, which was the shovel he used to dig his own grave._ _

__Link didn’t regret it, greedy as he was, yet that didn’t make it any easier, did it?_ _

__For him, at least._ _

__Trying to imagine Zelda’s reaction to it would prove to be surprisingly difficult. Unlike him, the girl was more inclined to logic and reason than anything else, finding rationality even in something as irrational as emotion. No doubt she went into it all knowing the same: that there would be an end._ _

__It was entirely possible Zelda would frown, shrug her shoulders, perhaps thank him for his time, and return to tinkering with slate._ _

__In his desperate search for just about any excuse, that was a theory in which he would choose to cling to. Link would comfort himself: convincing himself that, at the very least, it wouldn’t hurt her as much as it did him._ _

__It’d seemed more plausible to him than anything else in all his doubt. He hadn’t a clue what she saw in him to begin with; and it was a question he’d asked himself nearly everyday since Akkala- since Death Mountain, even._ _

Loving _him?_

__It was flat out nonsense for more reasons than just the medicine._ _

  


* * *

  


__Noon came all too slowly, but the blessing accompanying it made the wait plenty worth it._ _

__King Rhoam was finally departing, after all._ _

__It appeared he wasn’t the only one eager to be rid of that oppressive man. The Gerudo walking next to him practically had a skip in her step as they traipsed along the path leading to that Plateau’s ramp._ _

__Daruk ambled to Link's right, and Mipha to Urbosa's left. Revali had barreled past overhead: likely wanting to goade about being the most punctual._ _

__“The princess isn’t with him,” Daruk pointed out as he watched the Rito pass overhead. A finger scratched at his temple, and he glanced around the trees as if he expected Zelda to be slinking somewhere nearby._ _

__Urbosa provided an answer, sounding a little grouchy, “Her Highness said her goodbyes already. His Majesty insisted she remain in the temple to pray alongside our lovely nuns.”_ _

__(The sarcasm in those last few words were palpable. The nuns on the Plateau were nothing if not pestering and derogatory. Link was fairly certain he’d still had scars from all the beatings he received from their rulers: smacking his hand for using a fork incorrectly, or throwing some religious text at him for mumbling a curse at them. Anabelle was a saint compared to those women._ _

__How Zelda stood to live with them for seven years was beyond him. To his amusement, he would bet that all it took was a month of Purah’s terrible influence to erase any progress they made in forging her into a proper princess over the years.)_ _

__Upon arriving, he noted that Revali’s scarf was missing. Most likely, it would be soaking in water for the rest of the day. Link stayed quiet despite the vicious glare directed at him. One look at Revali’s face told him that so much as maintaining more than a second of challenging eye contact would result in arrows being shot at him._ _

__Maybe if it was a normal day he’d have the energy to fight. He merely kept his eyes trained on the cobblestone, hands behind his back, and expression hollow. Out of the corner of his eye, Revali’s shoulders relaxed, and he turned his attention elsewhere._ _

__The sight of Link must have been as pitiful as last night. Even that firestarter couldn’t see any kindling in him._ _

__Four minutes later, Rhoam’s procession came marching from the guest houses. Twenty three men, he’d count. Nobles, guards, and servants included._ _

__The king would not address Link personally. It seemed he felt no inclination to pressure him further, ignoring his empty stare. Whatever words he spoke, whatever goodbyes or praises were uttered, he didn’t retain any of them. He was a statue, and was fairly certain those around him couldn’t even see him breathing._ _

__It was hard to, after all. Unaware of anything other than the weight in his lungs, he almost didn’t realize that Rhoam was already walking off: his attendants in tow. Link joined his peers in bowing low, and his head did not rise until a voice addressed him._ _

__It was his father: lingering on the edge of the ramp as he lagged behind that group of knights, staring up at him. The man’s gaze had a draw to it, and so Link drifted towards him as his fellow Champions retreated to their individual corners of the Plateau._ _

__Daruk to his mountains, Revali to his spires, Urbosa to her gardens, and Mipha to her shrine._ _

__“Hey, kid,” his father spoke as Link came to a halt before him. His voice was gentler than he’d ever heard it, and the sound of it nearly startled him. It couldn’t have belonged to the man who’d raised him: cursing and cackling like a witch at all hours of the day._ _

__He searched his face, trying to find whatever was buried beneath its glassy exterior. He’d never gotten used to it, no doubt- unable to adapt to his son’s blank stare the same way Link had never adjusted to the gaze of Hyrule’s populace._ _

__The man would swallow and speak again._ _

__“How are you doing?”_ _

__“Fine.”_ _

__A completely unbelievable response. His father’s mouth pressed into a flat line, something knitting his brow together. Quietly, he began again:_ _

__“...I know it’s a lot, getting promoted and all that, but listen-” he faltered, unsure of himself. His armor scraped when he reached up to rub the back of his neck, sighing through his nose. “This might seem out of nowhere, but I want you to know I’m here, yeah? I’ve been… absent for a long time. I know it’s not right and- if it ever gets to you, just... come home for a bit.”_ _

Don’t hesitate to kick him awake, he'd insisted. He’d be there to talk. 

__Link’s jaw tensed. He could feel heat rising again. Straining to hold something down, something too much for him. But even his father, often dense as he was, could see it._ _

__“You’re too headstrong, you know that?” his words were almost despairing, regretful. “...Too much like me, holding it all in. Doubting yourself.”_ _

__Shaking his head, he reached up, placing a hand on his son’s face somewhere between his jaw and neck, taking in the way Link’s mouth was twisting. “But I’m always surprised by you. You always rise up to it. Make good of it.”_ _

_Better than you know,_ he’d whisper. 

__Taking a deep breath, he forced out the core of his words, “What I’m trying to say is I’m proud of you, and I want things to be better between us... I mean it. I do.”_ _

__Somehow, he didn’t feel embarrassed when the dam broke. His eyes were shut tightly, a hand over his father’s as he tried desperately to wipe away those tears- trying to see his father’s face clearly._ _

“You- you can go,” he managed, choking on the words- voice pitching and uneven. _“I’ll be ok.”_

__“I know,” the man chuckled. The fondness there only hurt more. “I’ll see you at home, Link.”_ _

_“Thanks.”_

__“Don’t mention it.”_ _

__His hand slipped away, and Link watched him go: his retreating frame a blur amidst it all. The back of his hand would remain against his mouth- trembling at the effort it took to keep all his bawling quiet._ _

__One hundred years later, Link knew that was the last time he would ever see his father._ _

  


* * *

  


__His place on the Great Plateau were the forests. He sat on the pillar he’d tipped over with Robbie’s bladesaw, hand trailing across some moss growing alongside it. Somehow, his father’s words calmed him, and for the first time since he woke up that morning, his mind was finally quiet._ _

__It wouldn’t last for long, he was sure, but Link would savor it as best he could._ _

__The air smelled of honeysuckle as wind swept through that maze of trees. Birds sang. Light danced across the grass with every sway of the canopies above._ _

__Finally, he thought, some peace and quiet._ _

__However, it didn’t last long- because he found himself leaning back to stare up at a Goron loitering behind him not five minutes later._ _

__“Hey, little guy,” Daruk saluted: a dumb gesture he’d picked up from Link after their first meeting in Death Mountain._ _

__“...Hi,” it was becoming his staple greeting._ _

__“I’d hate to bother you when you’re doing all this thinking, but I have to ask for some help here.”_ _

__A blink. “With?”_ _

__Daruk opened his mouth, but was interrupted by Revali stalking out from behind his massive frame._ _

__“Her Highness has gone and vanished again.”_ _

__Despite knowing exactly what it had to do with him, he asked, “What does that have to do with me?”_ _

A wing cut through the air as he sneered, “Daruk says _you_ can sniff her out like a bloodhound.”

__

__

__“You can’t find her from the air?”_ _

__“I’ve scoured the abbeys. She’s nowhere, and Urbosa says she isn’t in any of the commissaries. We’re out of options.”_ _

__Link sat forward, putting his chin in his hand, “She probably ran off to mess with her Slate. Just yell about fruitcake for a bit and she’ll show up eventually.”_ _

__There was nothing but silence from the two behind him. Though, it would eventually be broken with a command from Revali to Daruk._ _

_“Do it.”_

__Half a second later, Link was crushed in Daruk’s grip as he snatched him up from his pillar. He squirmed, cursing at the two of them as he fought against that Goron’s absurdly strong grip._ _

__“You’re seriously manhandling me?!” he snapped. “Put me down, Daruk!”_ _

__“Come on, little guy, all you have to do is help us find her,” even the Goron sounded tired of all his drama. “Those nuns have been ragging us really bad about getting her back in for prayers.”_ _

__Goddess, he should have seen it coming. Of course that girl would leap out a window the second her father stepped foot off the Plateau. He could see it now: Zelda pitching a rock through stained glass above and skittering up the wall like a lizard._ _

__He regretted teaching her how to climb._ _

__It wasn’t terribly long before Link relented and it was deemed safe to release him from Daruk’s clutches. They’d gestured to Mipha as she stood on the cliff extending from her shrine- to which she shrugged and shook her head. He led them to more slate: the pedestal he’d excavated. Mysteriously, she wasn’t there either._ _

__The River of The Dead. The log cabins to the North- abbeys, hallways, gardens, libraries._ _

__Nothing. Not even the print of her boots to be found._ _

__He was starting to get worried._ _

__Link was pacing the edge of a lake, thinking hard as the other four watched on. No guards saw where she went, supposedly distracted by that classic falling pot trick of hers. Amateurs, all of them. He’d be sure to gripe at them later- maybe test their reflexes with one of those nun’s rulers._ _

__“I don’t think he has any ideas,” Daruk commented as Link punted a rock into the lake._ _

__Urbosa shifted on her feet, exasperated. “Revali, why don’t you search the air again?”_ _

__“Have you forgotten I was already up there for the last ten minutes?” he argued._ _

__“Can you think of a better method?” the woman countered, gesturing flippantly._ _

__They started to bicker. Mipha tried and failed to calm them as Daruk merely rubbed a hand on the back of his head. Link opened his mouth to make another suggestion- maybe the forests again- but the words died in his throat._ _

__A chill swept over him._ _

__Daruk bent over, inspecting Link’s open mouth and wide-eyed horror._ _

__“Is everything-”_ _

__He was already gone: bolting into the treeline as the other Champions called after him. He cut through the Forest of Spirits, sliding beneath fallen logs, vaulting over rocks, and tearing away vines with his sword. Link didn’t know where he was heading, or more specifically, how he knew where to run. South. To the edge of the cliff sides._ _

__Regardless, he was sprinting into an open field before he knew it._ _

__He almost didn’t see her amidst the flames: her hair rising with the wind as she stood perched upon a large boulder. It was tall grass that burned around her, smoke billowing into the air as she covered her mouth- stumbling away from the frantic reaches of monsters trying to forge their way through that sea of fire. Blackened limbs reached up, clawing at stone, and she was screaming._ _

__Moblins, Bokoblins: too many pouring out from the narrow pass further up the hill. Link didn’t know how to get to her as he skidded to a halt at the edge of the blazing field. Though, he wouldn’t have to think on it._ _

__A dark figure rushed past him. It was Revali bringing wind powerful enough to douse most of the flames, including the ones flaring across the monsters. Mipha dove from Revali’s back, her spear impaling a Moblin as she fell, and Link was soon joining the fray._ _

__Urbosa’s lightning flashed, thunder clapping. Daruk barreled over a line of monsters. He could see them cascade into the air, only to be sent plummeting back to the Earth by a flurry of arrows._ _

__Fifty, he counted: more coming._ _

__It was clear even Hyrule’s holy ground had fallen victim to the surge of violent creatures spreading across the country._ _

__All of their opponents were unusually strong: tinged white, gold, and black- something which was exceptionally strange for the Plateau. The monsters there were supposed to be weak and timid, far from the Moblins before him who could shake off fire as if it was a mild inconvenience. They couldn’t, however, shake off the searing blade Link was ramming into their chests._ _

__He’d twist the sword and rake it through bone and flesh alike until they were in uneven pieces. In a move that made even Urbosa stop and stare, he rammed his boot into the skull of a tripped Moblin, crushing it with his heel before cracking the pommel of his sword across another’s face hard enough that its neck snapped in two. The sound was audible as it spun, and Link dispatched three more in a similar way before that monster even hit the ground._ _

__Sometimes he felt like they forgot his limbs were just as lethal of a weapon as his sword. Grim as it was, it was an effective reminder of why Rhoam labeled him the most dangerous Champion time and time again._ _

__Regardless, all five of them together resulted in the battle being little more than child’s play; a minute was all it took before Link yanked his sword out of the final Bokoblin’s sternum._ _

__Zelda was sitting atop her boulder: leaning back on two hands, heaving and wide-eyed._ _

__Meeting her gaze, Link marched towards her through plumes of violet mist. Mipha was already there, guiding Zelda off her island of safety._ _

__It was a tall boulder, just higher than a Moblin’s reach. He didn’t regret teaching her how to climb. It’d saved her life._ _

__The Zora princess was tending to the burns on her hands when he stopped in front of them. Zelda was staring at him, looking calmer under Mipha’s touch._ _

__“What were you doing here?” he questioned. A rush of wind. Revali was behind him._ _

__“I- I saw a cave,” she pointed further up the hill into the cliffs. “...I dropped my lantern when they came.”_ _

“I _told_ you Bokoblins like caves,” Link reminded her- at a loss. He wiped at the damp substance clinging to his tunic. A glance at his hand told him it was blood slowly dissolving into purple wisps. 

__“You said you cleared the Plateau of monsters!” she defended. Mipha was glancing between the two of them, wary of their rising tones. The ground shook, Daruk was behind the Zora girl._ _

__Urbosa’s red hair was at the edge of his vision when he spoke again. “We cleared the forest, not the entire Plateau.”_ _

__“You didn’t specify that,” Zelda insisted._ _

“You’re right,” he agreed, sheathing his sword. Although, his frustration didn’t fade. “But I didn’t expect you to run off this far without a guard! Even if the monsters are cleared, what about Yiga? You couldn’t have gotten Urbosa? _Any_ of us?” 

__The princess narrowed her eyes, pulling her arm from Mipha’s grasp. “I would have gotten caught by the abbey guards if I tried to find any of you!”_ _

__His eyes rolled. “We both know you’re better at sneaking around than that.”_ _

__It almost looked like she wanted to snarl at him- at the truth in his words._ _

“You’re right! I wanted to be alone,” she admitted. “I couldn’t stand to be in that temple another moment! Nuns telling me I’m a failure, that I’m not _devoted_ enough. _Unworthy.”_

__Like a band snapping, she’d fled._ _

__Link couldn’t tell if the heat was coming from her or the flames still pulsing behind her._ _

__“I hate this place, Link,” Zelda went on, uncaring of her audience. “I’d rather spend hours running from Bokoblins than sit on my knees trying to pray when all I can think about is whether or not I did something wrong!”_ _

__He wanted to slap himself. Of course she’d think it was her fault._ _

__He’d left her on that hill with nothing but her thoughts, hadn’t he? Those doubts that so often festered in her mind, only made stronger by the errant disapproval of chantryfolk looming overhead. Zelda must have felt the same as he did under her father’s glare: being forced to the ground each day, having more than just Hylia’s stare pressing against the back of her neck._ _

__There was a lingering pause before he gathered himself and spoke calmly, “You didn’t do anything wrong.”_ _

__Her nose scrunched; her disbelief was blatant. Link ran a hand through his hair, done with it all._ _

__“I’m sorry for making you think that,” he apologized, hoping the sincerity in it would be enough to convince her._ _

__The princess’ own anger faded, and her eyes flicked to the smouldering grass at her feet. She was letting him get away with it again, wasn’t she? He didn’t like that._ _

__“...Princess,” Mipha prodded kindly. “We won’t make you return to the temple. Would you like to return to the gardens?”_ _

__Zelda’s eyes closed, a deep frown on her face. It looked like the one from the tourney: too many things being bottled up at once. He didn’t like that, either._ _

Bitterly, she smirked and muttered, “I’d like to leave this _Plateau.”_

__“Ok.”_ _

__Link blurted a response before anyone else could. All eyes locked onto him. Oddly, that didn’t deter him. “...I can take you.”_ _

__Not much seemed to be running through her mind when she also blurted, “Ok.”_ _

__Revali was the one to start asking questions regarding that plan of theirs. “We are leaving tomorrow, Your Highness.”_ _

__The girl looked over at him, also undeterred. “We can come back tomorrow morning.”_ _

__Despite how passive her tone was, no one saw room for argument in it._ _

__“I… suppose that works,” Mipha mumbled._ _

__There was a collective nod and reluctant agreement between them all- shrugs and tipping heads. They looked baffled to him, at their wit’s end when it came to trying to keep up with the train of thought belonging to the two Hylians before them._ _

__Though, if anything, they should be leaping at the opportunity to be rid of their gloomy presence for an entire night._ _

__Urbosa crossed her arms, watching Link with a knowing, somber expression, and all he could do was glance away as dread weighed heavy on his shoulders. The woman was right; it had to be done soon._ _

__This would be the last time he indulged Zelda.  
_ _

  


* * *

  


__“You know, the abbey guards are far too easy,” Zelda was walking ahead of him, her nose buried in her Slate. “You all at the castle provided a real challenge, you know. Especially you. Goddess knows I never managed to give you the slip for more than two minutes.”_ _

__She glanced back at them as they walked along the dirt path leading to the Outskirt Stables. The colosseum was passing by: the roar of a distant crowd echoing from that grand building. It was nostalgic, the sound of it._ _

__“I saw you keeping tallies and decided I’d cause as much trouble for you as possible,” the girl informed him all too proudly. It’d become a game for her, too, apparently. She’d kept score in her own diary: two pages to match his._ _

__Zelda attached the Slate to her belt and walked backwards, a hand on her horse’s neck to guide her._ _

__“You were so angry whenever you caught up to me! It was worth it though, you always looked like this,” she pouted and puffed out her cheeks. The girl pointed to the ridiculous look on her face, jeering, “I thought you resembled a toad, trying so hard not to yell at me.”_ _

__“You’re terrible,” Link deadpanned. She laughed at that._ _

__They had little aim for where they wandered._ _

__In the beginning, Zelda had searched for answers. He’d merely asked for time. A little longer, he said, and they’d talk. He’d let her know what it was that left him so addled and stumbling around as if Urbosa’s drink was still in his system._ _

__Patient as ever, she’d nodded and indulged him as well._ _

__An hour later, a dog was licking her face. Link stood over the two of them, ignoring her cries for help as the animal slobbered all over her. As much as she protested and kicked her legs, she was smiling, giggling as she scratched at its ears. Though he did eventually lure that dog away with the promise of an apple or two._ _

__Upon standing, she shook out her hair like she was a dog herself, and he complained loudly when the action sent gravel flying at him._ _

__A stick was in his hand. It dragged along the grass as he and their new furry companion followed Zelda through a nearby cluster of trees. There was a large rock that piqued his interest: a common place for lizards to hide, after all. He meandered up to it, taking his eyes off of the princess for a moment or two._ _

__The Korok that exploded in his face made him fall back onto his hands. Although, its mischievous laughter and ardent congratulations were cut short the second it glanced behind him._ _

_“Uh oh,”_ it yapped. 

__Link’s head swiveled. Zelda was sticking poisonous berries in her mouth. A gasp of horror escaped him._ _

__“They’re not poisonous!” she was arguing as he smacked them out of her red-stained fingers- the color already smeared on her mouth._ _

__He begged to differ, having seen one of his academy’s classmates bent over a bucket for six days straight. The girl was still munching away even as he demanded she spit them out._ _

__“I ate these very often growing up,” she recalled. “Perhaps I built a resistance to it?”_ _

__“That’s…” stupid, is what he wanted to say. But a few things were clicking in his mind._ _

__Zelda squinted at him, shying away. “...What is it? Why are you looking at me like that?”_ _

__In a twist of events, he was the one to pace circles around her, ruminating with crossed arms and a tapping finger. She swallowed even though there were no berries left in her mouth._ _

__Stopping, he noted, “You’ve poisoned yourself with elixirs before.”_ _

__“...Indeed?”_ _

__“But you walked it off.”_ _

__It should have left her bedridden for two days or more, he specified. And yet, he’d watched her retch loudly into a bush and dust off her clothes as if nothing happened. At the time, he’d thought it was her embarrassment she was desperate to walk off more than anything else._ _

__“You heal quick, too.”_ _

__The princess was catching on to his line of questioning, a hand shooting to her chin. “...A little like you, yes?”_ _

__Link’s own nose scrunched._ _

__“You’re weird, you know that?” he gestured to himself, flabbergasted. “I can almost never sneak up on you, either. You always know where I am.”_ _

__He was certain it was the Sheikah in him that left his pride wounded. He could catch just about anyone unaware, and yet Zelda was able to sniff him out from the very beginning- even when he knew he didn’t smell like a Hinox (a claim of hers which was completely unfounded)._ _

__“You can, too. You found me in that field, yes?”_ _

__They were humming in unison, perplexed by it all._ _

__“I don’t know how, honestly,” she leaned in, eyes glinting. “But I have an idea. Shall we play hide and seek?”_ _

_“No.”_

__She pointed to the bush. “Berry testing, then?”_ _

__“We’re going back to the stable,” he shot down both of her attempts. The girl protested again, but had no choice but to chase after him when Link stole her Slate- their furry companion trotting after._ _

__It was while waiting for water to boil in a cooking pot that Zelda inquired about the Lost Woods._ _

__“The Great Spirit, what is he like?”_ _

__Link thought it over, squinting at the bubbling water. “Blunt. Hard to faze.”_ _

__“Well that sounds like the average elder.”_ _

__“Yeah. He snores like an old man, too,” he elaborated. “But I think he does it on purpose so people will leave his forest a little quicker… He might be the cranky type now that I think about it.”_ _

__A grin was on her face with a hint of perplexity, “He really does sound like an old man.”_ _

__Link waved a ladle around. “He’s patient, though. He might’ve been the only old person near that school not to yell at me.”_ _

“I can only _imagine_ you as a child,” she joked, putting an exaggerated hand on her forehead. 

__“You wouldn’t believe it. Anabelle always showed up whenever I tried something dumb. By the end of it I was paranoid she could read my mind.”_ _

__The name made Zelda’s eyebrow raise. “You mention her quite a lot.”_ _

__“She was the first person who taught me manners,” Link sighed as if it was a fond memory. “I’ll never forget that old woman.”_ _

__“You make it sound like she was your first love,” she snickered, shaking a bottle of seasoning into the pot. Goron Spice, courtesy of Daruk._ _

__“My first fear more like it,” he corrected as he threw in a few vegetables._ _

__Another snicker. A smile from him._ _

__It took some time, but their conversations had returned to normal- he’d returned to normal. Link watched her from the other side of that pot: watching the heat distort her features in the afternoon light. Would they be able to talk like this, he wondered? After it all._ _

__Of course not, he admonished himself. Rhoam was anything if not thorough; letters wouldn’t even be allowed._ _

__Without realizing it, his gaze had drifted downwards to the ash and dirt, resentful of his own decisions. Zelda was already putting away their tools: that early dinner of theirs over with. The movements of her arms slowed. They became sluggish, weak, and eventually they stopped altogether._ _

__It caught his attention, and he looked up again, resurfacing from all his pondering. The girl was picking him apart, wordless._ _

__“Link,” she tried, hesitant. A worried smile was there. A head cocked, and a finger pointed to the North. “Have you been to the park up there?”_ _

__A head shake._ _

__Zelda stood, her voice a little more assured as she requested, “Come with me, will you? I have a sneaking suspicion you’ll like it.”_ _

__There was no reason he could dredge up to refuse. Thus, he tossed the remaining scraps of their dinner to the dog curled at his feet and followed after._ _

__The sun was setting. Somehow, the day had passed far quicker in her presence; all her rambling did well to keep him from being trapped in his own head, and Link wasn’t sure if he was grateful for it or not._ _

__He was afraid of the night, after all. Of twilight, now._ _

__Urbosa had asked about a plan. When and how, she’d interrogated. The former he knew, yet the latter? It escaped him. His mind would reject any attempt he made at planning something like that out. He couldn’t predict her reaction- couldn’t predict what stupid things would come out of his mouth the moment he started talking._ _

__He’d wing it, was the conclusion he came to. It was all he could do._ _

__Bits of foliage drifted. Tufts of dirt, carried along by a warm breeze. A noise buzzed in the open air: the sound of cicadas reverberating from somewhere deep within a passing forest. That sound would chase after them as they climbed yet another steep hill._ _

__There was a mountain to their left: it was tall enough to cast a vast shadow over the fields below- their own path just out of reach._ _

__“Your advice was quite helpful- thank you,” Zelda was glancing his way in an almost impish manner. “This little one and I are getting along quite well now.”_ _

__(The animal’s head was low, its stride lazy. He remembered watching the way she and that horse used to argue. It’d been trained by the Horse Master himself, and yet Zelda couldn’t keep her own mount from disobeying her at every given turn: stopping to eat grass as she waved her hands madly- trying to return the two of them to the road._ _

__It’d been funny, really, and the girl was only more irate whenever she’d see him and his own horse staring at them from further up the path, his flat stare entirely unimpressed.)_ _

__“At first, I wasn’t sure if I should outfit him with all of the royal gear. I thought maybe he should have to earn it first.” Flickering golds. Violet emblems, Link thought it suited the animal, and, apparently, Zelda did, too. “But it works! He wears it like a true natural.”_ _

__It felt pointed when she looked at him again, fast enough for her hair to sway behind her back._ _

__“I’m trying to be a bit more empathetic,” a head cocked, her meaning playful yet layered. “...Benefit of the doubt, you know?”_ _

__Zelda was strict in her own way. Things should be earned. Medals, promotions, skills, and even holy powers were all things that one should have to work to obtain. It was her own personal lie, one which he’d torn apart by his mere existence: the ghastly picture of Hylia’s sacred blade in the hands of someone who hadn’t worked a day in their life for it._ _

_‘I expect too much from everyone around me,’_ she’d murmured next to nightshades. 

__Be worthy, she’d told herself for so many years. Bear it. Be more. Be worthy. Be better. Be dedicated._ _

__But now, she was a little kinder to herself and to the world around her. Though it would be easy for anyone, especially her father, to look at it all and say Link had turned her nothing more than lazy._ _

__A terrible influence, that’s what he’d always been. Good, he’d affirmed to himself. Zelda was happier that way._ _

__“There it is!”_ _

__A horse rearing up: legs kicking against the glare of firelight on the horizon._ _

__Link raised his eyebrow at Zelda and she only giggled._ _

__“I knew you’d love it,” she quipped, and hastened the pace of her mount._ _

__The wind grew harsher when their feet met stone. Zelda walked against it, her hair blowing back from her shoulders as she took in the full expanse of land before her. Link found his eyes trailing across mossy pillars- including the blue-green of the statue behind them. He suspected it was aged copper: the metal dented in odd places here and there._ _

__Zelda stared at the land below. He walked several paces, intending to join her at the memorial’s edge, but stopped. Best not to approach, he thought. Best to maintain distance. He’d only wind up burned again._ _

__“See that mountain?” her voice, diffident. Daunted. “That’s Mt. Lanayru.”_ _

__Even she could pick it out amidst all the sharp edges of Hyrule’s hills and mountains. It was tall; he suspected it reached as high as Vah Medoh, and he could only imagine the chill it would bring._ _

__Sitting on Vah Naboris alone had left him speechless with a sense of wonder, and despite all the trepidation that came with it, part of Link felt drawn to the opportunity to climb those unforgiving slopes. The biting cold. Broken steps. It held a peculiar charm to him: ruins and ancient stone. Overgrowth or the complete lack thereof. Whatever was left untouched for centuries._ _

__He’d never been able to place where it came from- the urge to put his hands on things that were best left alone._ _

__He couldn’t have been alone in that, because it sounded like Zelda was marveling at it herself, trying to imagine setting foot past whatever gate the Keepers had locked that spring behind._ _

“Lanayru’s decree is very specific,” she provided, knowing full well he was still plenty ignorant of the laws surrounding that hallowed mountain. “It says: _‘No one is allowed, under the age of seventeen… For only the wise are permitted a place upon the mountain’._ ” 

__He almost laughed at that. He’d be rejected at the gates._ _

__Zelda’s head was swaying, off center as she continued to mull over her own experiences at the springs. Her shoulders were loose and then stiff, her voice determined and then unsure- meek at best. She was fighting against her own doubt._ _

_‘-neither awoke anything inside me.’_

__Frustration there. Growing. She smothered it._ _

__“But maybe up there… Perhaps the Spring of Wisdom, the final of the three, will be the one.”_ _

__He doubted the girl was even speaking to him anymore, but Link knew her better than to assume she had confidence in such a thing, she must have known that, based on her confession._ _

“To be honest, I have no real reason to think that will be the case,” her hands rose, providing her own comfort, “but there’s always the chance that the next moment will change everything.” 

__She’d run out of other avenues long ago; she’d run out of theories, of experiments, and places to visit. Prayer wouldn’t help her, Mipha had claimed- and while Link thought he’d understood what she meant, something told him there was more to those words of hers than he realized._ _

__It sounded to him as though Zelda was trying to muster real blind faith in it all: for the first time, she was slowly drawing her foot over the edge of a precipice._ _

__Did it scare her that much? Admitting she hadn’t a clue to the truth of any of it?_ _

__“Tomorrow… is my seventeenth birthday,” When the girl turned, her doleful expression told him he’d been correct in guessing that fear of hers. “So then I shall go…”_ _

__Yet, something was there, something breathing to life in her._ _

__“And make my way up the mountain.”_ _

__Her eyes narrowed, holding his stare. It felt challenging._ _

__“This... is my last chance,” Zelda reiterated. “I need a clear mind. So, I ask of you that you be candid with me, Link.”_ _

__She marched several steps forward, ignoring any discomfort that may have flashed across his face._ _

__“You said I did nothing wrong, yes?”_ _

“You didn’t,” he confirmed. “I didn’t mean to push you. _I’m sorry.”_

__He could see the events of last night replaying in her mind- he could see her analyzing every piece of it. A hand reached up, experimental, and he flinched._ _

__Zelda’s hand remained lifted, but extended no farther. Her expression fell: eyes lidded. “...It’s me then, is it? Not something I did.”_ _

__“It’s not-”_ _

__“Have you grown tired of me?”_ _

_“Zelda,”_ his tone was harsh and emotional, cutting off that line of questioning. He wouldn’t allow it: her trying to assume that she was the root of it, the problem. The thing that was wrong. Because in the end, it was him. 

__His eyes shut. Tight. He dug out the words, providing an explanation that was far simpler than he’d convinced himself it was._ _

__“Your father gave me an ultimatum.” The railings glinting in the sunlight. He focused on them, sucking in a breath quick and sharp. “If I don’t become king, he’ll separate us. Permanently.”_ _

__“When?” she whispered._ _

__“After Lanayru.”_ _

__Her hand dropped. Zelda stepped back once, twice, and stared at the earth._ _

__“...I see,” her tone was as hollow as it’d been when he first looked down on her in the sanctum. It made his skin crawl. “It was bound to happen eventually.”_ _

__Link waited. He waited for her to ask what he was going to do, and yet- the girl didn’t. Instead, she took in a deep, ragged breath, and spoke lightly:_ _

__“I hoped we had a little more time, but I suppose these things can’t be helped!” the Slate was in her hands now, but she wasn’t looking at it. Her fingers were stiff, every part of her locked in place. Only her chest moved, breathing, and her mouth- blathering on, “I’m sorry, this put you in an awkward position, didn’t it? I imagine you couldn’t tell me last night because you were afraid of how I’d react? Worry not, I completely understand!”_ _

__She already knew his choice. It wasn’t a relief, not having to explain himself, and all the conflict in him was only made worse when he couldn’t identify whether all her talking was to cover up the awkwardness of it, or if she was as pained by it as he was._ _

__He wanted her to care._ _

__He didn’t want her to care._ _

Zelda gave him no opportunity to respond before her gaze flicked away: back and forth, continuing on with jumbled words, “I should thank you, actually! You’ve been a great help to me... For some reason, things were always a little easier with you around. And- you know, the only reason I was able to speak out in that sanctum was because you were there. And on Naboris- somehow I believed what you said, that I wasn’t a _coward-”_

__Her voice cracked._ _

__She paused, sucking in yet another breath. A smile on her face. Gaze rolling from the sky to the ground again. “Oh! I just thought of something,” a giggle escaped her, but it sounded frantic, pitching. “When I’m twenty, I will inherit partial control of the church! With me being married, I’ll have a lot more power, too! You’ve dealt with a lot, so the least I can do is make sure they’re not so strict with you anymore-”_ _

__"Stop, it's fine.” Careful- almost pitying. Impulsively, Link stepped forward, his hand reaching out to her shoulder but she flinched away, too._ _

__An arm shot up, covering her mouth and nose as her breathing quickened. She looked away, eyes wide, watery, and her forehead knit together as she strained to keep her composure._ _

“-Fine, it’s _fine,”_ she ground out. It was a fruitless attempt at keeping face. “Don’t worry about me.” 

__It was hurting her. The realization was nightmarish._ _

__Rapid blinking. The Slate pressed against her chest- the girl cradling it so tightly he wouldn’t have been surprised if the thing snapped in half._ _

__What was the way this was supposed to go, he wondered?_ _

__Was this the point in which he should nod and step back? Thank her for her understanding?_ _

__That didn’t feel as correct as he’d imagined in the beginning. It didn’t feel right._ _

__There were words in his head- unusual thoughts forming. He was marveling at a few of the things she’d said and the truth to them. Off center, everything felt off center, but the more he thought about it, the more things seemed to realign themselves; the more sense his utter lack of panic was beginning to make._ _

__“It was easier,” he started mumbling on his own. His voice drew Zelda’s attention, her confusion evident even with half her face hidden away behind her forearm. “I could talk in the sanctum because you were there, too… And this sword, I wasn’t nearly as scared coming forward with it because I talked to you, you know,” he laughed, wonderstruck. “Even if it was only for ten minutes- two years of hiding and I was able to just walk away from it after listening to you ramble.”_ _

__Her arm was lowering. Whatever emotion was rising in her was settling: replaced by what was clearly bafflement._ _

It was so much _easier,_ wasn’t it? 

__Link swallowed. He recalled the last twelve hours. Miserable was what he was. The month he spent away from her in Zora’s Domain was miserable, too. The feeling was strong- strong enough that he had a hard time believing it’d ever go away._ _

__Three years of misery, only to watch her get married? Rhoam would probably make him the ring bearer, given his twisted sense of humor._ _

_Goddess,_ no. He couldn’t. 

__There was a memory he was suddenly fixating on: the day they’d spent out in the fields, just North of the castle by that old tree. It was before she’d started taking pictures, or found that nasty amphibian._ _

__They’d sat beneath rustling leaves, their backs leaning against each other and his sword discarded in the tall grass. Zelda merely swiped away at her device as usual- trying to find her way around its locked features._ _

__She was humming something soft. A lullaby, maybe. Whatever it was, it made him sleepier than it did her. Link hadn’t been sure how much time passed as he laid there, his head tilted against the back of her shoulder: his eyes closed. Listening. Breathing with an empty mind._ _

__He hadn’t felt that calm for days, weeks even. In fact, he couldn’t recall a single person he’d ever felt so comfortable with._ _

_“Are you enjoying yourself?”_ she’d murmured gently, teasingly as she reached over her shoulder. Fingers ran through his hair. He’d been disappointed when they slipped away. 

__Something was grumbled, earning laughter equally as quiet as her question._ _

__That would never happen again, would it? Link wondered if he could live without those moments of respite. Zelda, gone. Him alone in the woods: alone as he trudged through valleys of violet mist and mangled corpses._ _

__Could he live with that?_ _

All the Goddesses, _no,_ he thought again. 

__“Maybe it doesn’t have to be like this,” Link finally said._ _

__His father said he always rose above it all, made good of it. Urbosa told him he was better than this. Akkala: Link himself had thought he wanted to be capable of more._ _

__It didn’t have to be like this. He didn’t want it to be._ _

__Zelda didn’t like that. Both hands were on her Slate again as she shook her head rapidly. “No. No, listen to me- that’d be throwing your life away.”_ _

__“What do you want?” he questioned, adamant._ _

“What-” she recoiled, her mouth trembling. “This isn’t about me. This is about what _you-”_

__Link would cut her off, swiping his hand. “Fine, let’s pretend this is just about me. I still want to know.”_ _

__“I can’t,” she insisted, rubbing at her eyes. “There’s no other option. You’d be throwing your life away!”_ _

__“I don’t think so,” he shifted his weight to his other foot. Nervous. Swallowing again._ _

She couldn’t fathom that. Zelda actually stamped her foot, her voice fraughtful as she demanded, _“How!?”_

__The answer was simple, really._ _

__“Because I love you.”_ _

__The princess had no response for that. She stared, lips parted. Link watched the Slate slide from between her fingers- and Zelda only snapped out of whatever trance she was in when she fumbled to catch it._ _

__She didn’t straighten after catching it. Hair was spilling over her shoulders, her eyes searching the ground as if she thought she could find an answer there. Frazzled was what she was, words only escaping her in near incoherent fragments._ _

__“It’s- it’s not, you’ll just-”_ _

__“Do you think I’d be bad at the job?” he laughed awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck._ _

__A head shake._ _

__“...Do you not feel-”_ _

“No, no, that’s not it,” she sniffed, and dropped the Slate entirely in favor of covering her eyes. It clattered against the stone as she spouted, “I just can't believe it. I- I don’t know what you _see in me.”_

__“Zelda,” the sigh that tumbled through him was sympathetic and disbelieving at the same time. He approached, finally, and slipped an arm around her waist: the other sifting beneath the hair at the back of her head._ _

__No heat. No burning limbs. Relief flooded through him._ _

__“Don’t be stupid,” he muttered, chiding. “If anyone should be saying that, it’s me.”_ _

“...Are you _sure?”_ A question. Another doubt. 

__Link’s mouth pulled into a grin. Her touch was warm this time, pleasant, and he relished in it. “Why do you think I let you get away with so much?”_ _

__He couldn’t figure out whether it was a laugh or some sort of sob that came out of her. He pulled away, looking over her. Tears there. Shaking. There was little chance she could even see him clearly. It was all his fault; he tried to fix it as best he could, brushing aside strands of hair that had somehow flipped over her braid and into her face._ _

__Was that a leaf in her hair, too? How long had it been there?_ _

__“...Would you be alright with it?” he asked, anxious again as he tossed away the leaf. Link suspected his voice was more timid than it'd been his entire life. Goddess, it was embarrassing. This was all embarrassing. “Um… marrying me?”_ _

__This was the worst proposal in history, he was positive._ _

__Apparently, she decided the appropriate response was to tackle him._ _

_Thank you,_ she’d repeat again and again. For not leaving her, she’d say. She couldn’t live with it either, he understood: a future spent alone in empty hallways, stuck in greenlit caves with nothing but the echo of her own voice to keep her company. 

__He stood in that spot, laughing with relief._ _

__“Was this it?” he asked the open air, eyes landing on the horse munching away at grass encroaching over cobblestone._ _

__He’d found the strength not to run; for the first time in his life he’d stayed, weathered the storm despite all his fears._ _

_You’ve never been a coward._

__Those were the words that rang in his head, making his breathing hitch. His eyes burn._ _

__Link found himself laying on the stone. Twilight was fading into black. Stars flickering along the Eastern skies. His hands hovered over his face- the hood of his tunic bunched up behind his head as he watched the dark clouds passing above through parted fingers._ _

_You told me we would bear the weight of Hyrule together._

__“We still do,” he replied, his tone just as wistful as hers._ _

_...Yes._

It was inevitable that he would regain some of his memories along the way. She’d wanted to show him the truth of it- to show him that he was better than he believed. He thought it was pride radiating in his chest: a kind of unfamiliar excitement, and it occurred to him that leaving the tourney was the last time he’d ever felt that way. Satisfied and content with his choices. Hopeful. He hadn't run. He hadn't abandoned her. _He hadn't._

__“I’ll keep going,” he assured her, breath fogging in the night air- words hoarse._ _

_I will, too._

__Time was on his side, but only because Zelda was, as well._ _

__He sat up, looking at the horse still eyeing him from a distance. A swishing tail. Pointed ears. Link grabbed his Slate, and a carrot appeared in his hand: a flash of blue which drew that animal’s full attention._ _

__There was a smirk on his face._ _

__“Let’s make a deal, yeah?”_ _

  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 4\. I hope this one turned out well! I struggled with the emotional parts quite a bit, so we'll see if they were effective. Thanks for getting through this one! I know it was a lot to read!


	21. The Serpens

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. UGH this took some time, thanks for waiting, you guys  
> 2\. You can almost consider this chapter a bit of an interlude. We're tying up a few loose ends for a good chunk, but toward the end we'll be kicking the plot into gear!  
> 3\. You're all too sweet with your comments, I swear. Thank you thank you  
> 4\. Because it was requested I did not listen to anything with lyrics for this chapter but during the ending portion I listened to "Ora" by isolated! Really sets the mood lol
> 
> 5\. EDIT: So I've posted a new thing- a couple snap shots from Zelda's perspective in the earlier chapters if anyone's interested. You can find it in the collection I've added this to or just on my dashboard!

“Now, _where’s_ the North star?”

A chorus of voices: mischievous and laced with the sound of maracas.

_“In Ursa Minor!”_

“At the end of what?”

_“The Little Dipper!”_

“Perfect!”

The Koroks below cheered while the ones on his head and shoulders rattled their instruments in celebration.

“What,” The Deku Tree’s voice rumbled from below, “in Hylia’s name is going on up there?”

The Koroks would answer in Link’s stead, _“Hero star class!”_

The spirit was bewildered but laughing nonetheless.

They stood at the top of the Great Tree, eyes wandering the color-laden expanse above. It was supposed to be a short trip for him to deliver the picture of a Blupee to one of that forest’s residents, yet one question regarding a particularly bright star in the sky led to him standing amidst a hoard of Koroks as he yammered on about their locations and meanings.

It was nostalgic; and drawing lines between those specks of light had done well to piece together old memories of something nearly identical he’d done with Zelda.

Cliche as it was, they’d stayed the night in that park: playing silly games picking out maps of starlight. As it turned out, their combined knowledge of the constellations was vast; Zelda had learned to navigate using them from all her time spent with the Gerudo whilst Link was far better versed in their pictures and meanings.

She’d sat cross legged as he pointed out all the patterns she’d assumed held no meaning, chin in hand. Her eyes had been wide and curious, yet they seemed to focus more on him than the stars he was speaking of.

(It was all from the fantastical stories Link’s father had read to him as a child or whatever old texts Mipha and him dug up in the Zoras’ libraries. Dragons, spirits, and ancient tales had been an avid interest of his before it was replaced with warfare and cold metal, after all, before he was expected to grow out of it by the steel-plated men trudging past him.)

Though, they’d been so engrossed in all their talking that the night had passed in the blink of an eye. Before he knew it, Link was waking to a pool of blonde hair in his vision.

Zelda was there, her face buried into his collar. Their arms were slung lazily over each other: nothing but a tangle of limbs next to a long dead fire without even an inch of space between them. He was keenly aware of her slow, steady breathing against his chest, and he took minutes too long to soak it all in.

Birds fluttered somewhere. It drew his attention up from the hair splayed across their bedroll, along the length of that green-tinted statue, and to the clear skies just past pigeons nestled between a pair of metallic ears.

Blues and golds and whites. Dawn had long since chased the night away.

He was squinting. As bright as the sky was, Link was fairly certain the Champions would soon be ready and waiting for them to return- if they weren’t already tapping their feet outside the gates, that is.

Sighing and dreadful that their time alone would come to an end, he held Zelda a little closer before he drifted a hand across her head, drawing her awake. The girl in his arms stirred. Something grouchy was mumbled.

Link went to move, but her response was to squeeze him tight enough to make him choke.

 _“Zelda,”_ he wheezed, “we need to get going.”

A shaking head. His second attempt was met with ardent resistance yet again.

They squabbled. Legs kicked in protest. Hair was pulled.

Eventually, he managed to bribe his way out of her clutches with the promise of a mackerel dinner and a guarantee that they would sneak away once or twice during their trip. Despite her grumbling protests, Zelda allowed him to pull her to her feet, throw their things together, and help fix her messy hair.

“Are you ready?” he questioned, snapping her hair clips into place as she mumbled a thank you here and there for his assistance.

The princess sucked in a deep breath upon remembering just what it was they were setting out to do. Lanayru, ice, snow, and frigid water.

Nervousness flashed over her face. Link examined the toad-like frown pulling at her lips, and the downcast gaze and narrowed eyes. Hands on hips he suggested:

“One for the road?”

Her eyes snapped back to his. There was a sharp nod as she straightened her back, gathering her composure.

“One for the road,” she confirmed.

As requested, Link bent down, planted his mouth on hers, and soon they were off, braving the clear weather of Central Hyrule’s Spring morning.

“You’re _three hours_ late!” Revali, kindly, greeted them first.

The Champions were all as ready and waiting as he’d predicted: a cluster of tapping feet and anxious frowns as they stood lined up at the bottom of the Plateau’s entrance. Revali was still griping, Mipha stumbled to dodge his angry gesturing, Daruk tried to poke their cart’s driver awake, and Urbosa looked frazzled.

Hardly a hair was out of place on that Gerudo’s head, yet the way her lips were mashed together and how tightly her arms crossed along her chest told Link she’d spent the entire night fretting. It made him feel apologetic.

First, she’d spent half a night listening to him blubber drunkenly in her lap, and then she spent yet another expecting her surrogate daughter to have her heart broken by the time the sun set. Even four plates of truffles couldn’t soothe that kind of anxiety, he was sure.

Link wouldn’t be surprised if the woman wound up more angry than relieved at the choice he’d made. All that drama, and for what? She’d no doubt wonder that herself.

Zelda was practically rolling off of her horse when they skidded their mounts to a stop. She was heaving, exhausted from their desperate rush to return.

“Good…Good m...” she waved a hand, doubled over on her knees. It was the best greeting she could muster. Link did the same, but it was less a greeting and more of a dismissal toward Revali's apparent obsession with punctuality.

An array of greetings were muttered or mumbled despite the way most of them shifted and exchanged dubious glances. Briefly, Link couldn’t help but wonder what sort of conversations they were having during their absence. Nothing good, probably.

Urbosa’s hand was grazing Zelda’s back as he dumped their things into the bed of the cart. 

“Did you sleep well?” the woman questioned, leaning over. “Are you feeling alright?”

“I did!” the princess fanned herself whilst Mipha hopped into the cart. Revali rudely woke their driver with a sudden rush of air from his wing. The older man yelped, almost falling over. “My shoulder is a little sore from sleeping on the ground, but it was a relief to take a day off. Thank you all for letting me leave for a bit. And I apologize for throwing such a tantrum-”

She was rambling, but happily. Urbosa appeared nothing if not baffled as she went on to crawl into the cart next to Mipha. The Gerudo searched for an answer in his own face, gesturing incredulously, to which Link offered a rather vague thumbs up as he re-tightened the straps on their horses’ saddles.

It appeared that wasn’t enough of an explanation.

Urbosa yanked him off to the side a second later, snarling down at him, “You didn’t tell her?!”

“I did!” he whispered, frantic as he shied away. 

_“And?”_

The answer was short. Simple. And yet it felt incredibly embarrassing to say. 

“...Um,” his eyes moved from the ground, to the sky, and then to the side before he blurted the rest of it, “...married.”

“Speak _up,_ boy.”

He cleared his throat. “We’ll- we’ll get married.” 

A hand was on the back of his head as he shifted- uncharacteristically bashful and girlish. He didn’t know if it was the sight of him or what had come out of his mouth, but whatever train of thought she had going came to a halt. Wide eyes. Blinking. A slack jaw. However, she wasn’t quiet for long.

_“What?!”_

Her voice was harsh, disbelieving, and it echoed loudly across the cobblestone roads. All heads turned. Oh, she sounded angry.

“I’d hate to interrupt your chat, but are we going or _not?!”_ Revali’s impatient screeching gave Link the perfect excuse to flee during the woman’s distraction, leaping onto his horse and riding off before she could potentially skewer him for all his jarring decision making.

  


* * *

  


The roads were infested.

Bokoblins, Moblins, and small Taluses littered nearly every inch of the Forest of Time. Instead of counting and listening to Revali rant and rave about numbers, Mipha had the far more sensible suggestion of merely taking shifts guarding the wagon.

As such, Link found himself watching from his horse as Daruk tore circles around their vehicle: the occasional Moblin or Bokoblin flailing and cartwheeling, and their driver panicking everytime monsters soared overhead like a flock of geese.

In the end, it would be hard to tell if that man was more frightened of Revali’s hurricanes, Urbosa’s lightning, or Daruk’s rampaging. 

It was when Link was called up for his own shift that the driver breathed with relief. Hylia’s Champion was just one Hylian with a sword. What could he do that was worse than a woman who could snap forty monsters into oblivion?

That assumption of his turned out to be true until a Hinox dared to throw a boulder at them from atop a hill. There was a monster fortress just at the bottom of that incline, too, blaring horns and drawing bows.

Well! He thought, this should be easy, shouldn’t it?

Four swipes at that Hinox’s leg was all it took for it to keel over and barrel down the hill, uprooting portions of the forest and crushing Bokoblins as it went. It was nothing but a cloud of dirt and mist. The fortress was destroyed in the process, the tremors enough to send their horses into a frenzy, and they galloped off too fast for their driver to maintain full control. Its occupants were nearly thrown over the railings.

Despite this, Urbosa only saw it fit to cut him off from his fun the moment she saw him steal explosive barrels from all the ruins and fling them towards the Hinox still trying to recover from its fall. Link was dumped unceremoniously into the cart: his wagon guarding privileges permanently revoked. In a twist, even Revali didn’t complain that he was being relieved of all his duties for the day.

“You know, there’s more skill in _not_ destroying half the kingdom over one Hinox,” the Rito blathered down at him.

He was still shaking off soot and dirt when he observed Mipha off to the side, trying to comfort their petrified driver as he trembled like a poodle. That Hylian man was looking at her like she was the only light in their tumultuous trip.

“It was twenty trees at most,” Link argued, returning to the matter at hand. Next to him, Zelda raised a doubtful eyebrow, but continued reading out of a textbook without a word. He stubbornly ignored her disbelief.

Revali dropped that particular argument. “Whatever. These roads are infested. What in Hylia’s name are _your_ imperial guards doing? I can only imagine how many people are being attacked in this forest alone!”

He shrugged, just as confused. “I don’t know, Revali. It’s not my job until after Lanayru.”

“Ridiculous. There have been surges for _months-”_

“Don’t you two start, again,” Urbosa carped, growling at the two of them from below.

Daruk scratched his head, popping up behind the Rito perched on their cart’s railing. “I don’t see the problem here, though. These roads aren’t too bad compared to Death Mountain.”

Revali scoffed, “Of course you wouldn’t be concerned. Your mountain and _your_ desert are nothing but cesspools of Lizalfos. I’m appalled! It seems like we Rito are the only ones here who are capable of keeping our people safe!”

“Oh _please,”_ Urbosa chuckled derisively, rolling her eyes with a curled lip. Zelda sighed. Her foot was tapping.

Link sat forward, questioning the validity of Revali’s bold statement, “Last I remember, you had _six_ guards who couldn’t handle two Wizzrobes-”

“They were at a disadvantage! And if it weren’t for me even _you-”_

“Come on, guys, things are getting a little too heated, yeah?” their resident Goron tried to defuse the situation, chains clinking as he moved his hands in a placating manner. A page was turned loudly- paper crinkling.

Urbosa took a step forward and shot down that attempt with a challenge, jabbing a finger at Revali, “Not at all! I would like to hear just _what_ our Rito thinks I can do to improve the safety of _my_ desert-”

Suddenly, a book was flung against the bed of the cart. It bounced, thudding across the wood.

“Will you all be _quiet?!”_ Zelda leapt off her seat, stamping her foot and shouting, “I am trying to _study!”_

Her voice echoed through the trees. The Champions recoiled; and their princess stood fuming as they all looked on in silence. When none spoke, Zelda's hands flew up, demanding an answer from them. Apologies were quickly muttered or mumbled, and soon their cart was shambling down the road once more: the only sounds to be heard that of flipping pages and tweeting birds. 

Regardless of all their driver’s worries, he would be released from their clutches upon arriving at the Dueling Peaks Stable- one that was unusually empty. Not a single guest in sight. Link stood near the horses, shielding his eyes from the setting sun flooding through that mountain’s pass. There was barely a ray of light left, the sky nothing but ink swirling around starlight.

The older man was wiping his forehead with relief after being dismissed, riding off towards Hateno upon being tipped a hefty sum from Mipha as an apology for their near-endless bickering and terrorizing.

Link’s gaze followed the cloud of dust left behind by his hasty departure, and rolled up the hills to the bridge which would lead them to their destination. Kakariko: a sacred village nestled deep within narrow paths and towering cliffs. Both out of respect and due to environmental restrictions, the trek would be made on foot.

One more day it would take, and then half a day to reach the entrance to Lanayru.

It was near, and each step closer made Zelda all the more quiet, stoic, and anticipative- and he suspected that was the reason she’d fallen silent mere hours after their traveling began, burying her face in books to drown out her nervousness.

Even then she’d stood at the edge of a flowing waterfall. Blinking. Observing. Wordless. Eyes flitting across the sight of a shrine entangled in thorns and wooden spikes. They crept along the cliff sides, their rustic colors all too vivid even in that mountain’s expansive shadow. Maybe she was considering wading through all those sharp edges just to lay hands on that slate.

Though, sensing his presence as always, Zelda twisted. Her eyes were a void when they locked onto him. He moved forward as she spoke, her lips forming silent words that faltered the moment he heard gravel shift behind him.

A hand slipped onto his shoulder, rooting him in place. Nails like claws.

Urbosa.

She would be the first to speak with a voice level, distant like faraway thunder. “...Did you back out?”

The wind was howling through that mountain pass. Cold. Colder than it should be so close to Summer.

Were you too soft? Too scared? Too guilted? She was asking these things. Fair things, given all his fickle habits and choices in the past.

Zelda was still watching the two of them: too far away to hear their voices, yet too curious to look away.

His head shook, slowly.

“...She made it easy, you know,” he said, turning his head just far enough for the woman to see his face. Although, he would only stare at the dirt, Urbosa’s hand still denying him movement. “She practically made the decision for me. Told me I’d be throwing my life away no matter what I said.”

A sigh escaped Urbosa. Fond. Frustrated. She was hardly surprised by that girl’s self-sacrificial behavior.

“I didn’t agree,” he stated rather simply and stole another look at Zelda. The girl was still waiting. Watching. Thoughts churning. Something tucked away between her fingers. Warm safflina, maybe. For the frigid pilgrimage ahead.

“And why is that?” Urbosa probed. Something goading was there in her tone. An accusation he couldn’t quite place.

Link sucked in a breath. 

He wondered if it surprised her, seeing and feeling no tension in his body. He’d carried it with him everywhere, after all; he’d been nothing but a ball of anger and frustration haunting her desert: rude, curt, impatient, violent. No doubt she saw something vitriolic writhing in him the first time she’d ever seen him. When was it? Mere days before the Champions’ ceremonies, standing in Rhoam’s shadow like a chained mutt in that sanctum?

He released it.

“I didn’t suddenly want to be king...” he confessed. “I just realized being separated from her is far worse in comparison,” there was a laugh from him- a little playful. His voice was still rough, however, possessing an edge to it that would never go away. “It’s selfish. I’m going to make this entire country put up with me because I’m too in love with a girl to leave her.”

Urbosa’s grip on his shoulder loosened, and he faced her as her hand fell back to her side. It swayed. A pendulum.

Her expression was unreadable. It prompted him to ramble on just a little longer, his tone dipping into something he imagined might have resembled his mother’s. Fearful as she was in the dark, chasing after firelight.

“I like to think that’s alright, though… That I can make good of it.”

Rhoam thought he could lead Hyrule properly, and Link had every intention to live up to that as best he could. He wanted to, he thought. He finally, finally did.

Blinking. Green eyes that saw right through him. They always had, and for a moment, he would have believed anyone if they told him Zelda really was her daughter.

The shadows cast across Urbosa’s face were harsh, but her voice was softer than he thought he’d ever heard it as she crooned, “...That may be so.” 

Suddenly, the woman leaned back and put a hand on her forehead: dramatic, jewelry glinting. A hand was waved dismissively.

“Very _well,_ you have my blessing, boy.”

“That was easy.”

She chortled and shoved him. Link stumbled backwards as she shooed him off, warning, “Count yourself lucky. I’m in a good mood.” Urbosa glanced over his shoulder and smirked. “Now, go on. Our princess is pacing like a lost puppy over there.”

She was right. Zelda was indeed pacing from foot to foot, hands wringing together and her safflina practically in pieces between her palms. He couldn’t blame her; their exchange must have looked tense to any observer.

Throwing Urbosa one last sheepish grin, he did as she commanded.

“Hey, you,” he said as he approached.

The waterfall was loud, almost drowning out Zelda’s warbling voice, “What- what was that about…?”

“Urbosa bullied me,” an honest answer, really. He was starting to think that woman had a quota to fill.

A whine. “She was being a mother bear, wasn’t she?” 

“Always.” 

Her eyes were wandering along his face, darting across his shoulders. It must have been near effortless for her to read him at that point judging by the way she rolled back on her heels. Relaxed. Huffing with approval.

“It looks like everything is alright, at least.”

Link bent forward, speaking low and quiet as if he was sharing a secret. “She’s softer on me than she pretends to be... I think she needed reassurance.”

A mirthful breath. “Regarding what, exactly?”

He winced at that and retreated, embarrassed of a certain memory. “The night I… got dragged in, I accidentally blabbed about everything. She was just surprised at what I chose.” His mouth quirked into a smile, half shy half teasing. “I don’t think she realized I love you that much.”

Predictably, her face was red.

Link reached forward, taking one of the flower stems from her hand, feeling the petals between his fingers. Orange. Red. It was an odd place for them to grow; it was no wonder they’d caught her eye.

Zelda’s head cocked, that girl looking nothing if not content- a bit smug, too. Link figured he should tell her not to let it go to her head, but after everything, he was under the belief it could stand to be a little bigger.

Shoulders hunched. He was sighing. Fond. Frustrated.

“...You should be angrier with me,” was the insistence born of his own shame.

For not communicating. For putting her through the terror of a withdrawn silence.

Perhaps there was no need for it, what with him believing so adamantly that she wouldn’t care as much as he did. But he should have known, shouldn’t he? She’d told him in a thousand different ways how she felt through a thousand touches, gifts, and glances; she’d confessed it unwittingly to him on Death Mountain, and yet he refused to believe her for so long.

That alone was worth punishment.

Zelda’s eyes were narrowed, disapproving of his words, and her answer was unexpected in its quiet severity, “You didn’t owe me anything.”

Petals were falling from his hand, scattering in the wind billowing out from between those mountains.

“Is that what you’ve always thought?”

“Yes.” Breathy. Hardly a whisper, that word.

Just how much did he owe Zelda? 

That question was still eroding away at him even after nearly a year. It would scrape across the walls of his skull like nails against a chalkboard most nights. It was there again: impatient, rapping on the door it’d been locked behind and demanding an answer. 

That girl was holding his gaze, determined yet pained in that belief of hers. He didn’t like it. It didn’t feel right.

_‘That’s up for you to decide, Link.’_

“I want to, though.” 

It slipped out, catching him by surprise, yet the words didn’t feel wrong, and so he left them hanging in the open air.

(She snatched them up, tipping toward him and tilting her head as if to get a better angle. There was no doubt she was hunting down whatever little secrets he’d revealed just then, and he knew very well that keen interest of hers was reserved for a select few things. 

Ridiculous as it was, two years was what it took for him to realize that girl always looked at him like one of her Guardians. Like precious slate. It was an action which never failed to both amuse and puzzle him: the idea that he was something as complex or intriguing as one of those machines. What was it she saw in him? More than he could imagine, perhaps.)

“Do you?” Zelda inquired.

“Yes.”

“How much?”

“As much as you want.”

Do not hesitate to ask for more; expect better of me, he thought.

Greedy was what she was, because Zelda wouldn’t protest against that proposal of his. She nodded slowly, a breeze lifting hair from her back. Blue waters there over her shoulder. Violets. A mess of thorns hiding something all too enticing.

The impish grin pulling at her lips told him maybe that offer of his put him in a little danger, yet the thought that he may regret it never crossed his mind.

“...Might I make a request then?”

Her attention was pointed over his shoulder: to the stables. The Champions were huddled near the cooking pot. Debating, talking over whatever dinner they were concocting. It burst into flames when Revali tossed in something foul. Mipha giggled, and for some reason, Daruk smacked that Rito on the back. Feathers scattered. Link could hear his squawking even from so far away, mingling with Urbosa’s laughter.

Daruk waved at the two Hylians, yelling, calling them over. Maybe they planned on demanding Link’s help in cooking something edible.

Fingers grazed his hand. They drew his own open and pulled his sights back to the princess mere inches from him. Nervous, Zelda pressed and twisted her lips together, and voiced whatever it was she wanted from him.

“No more hiding?”

Lately, it seemed his heart had taken full residence in his head, and he supposed that was why he didn’t bother to think on it.

“No more hiding,” he confirmed with a resolute nod. 

The princess hopped twice, gleeful, and briefly hugged him, making Link choke a second time that day when she squeezed the air out of his lungs. She pulled away slightly, grinning like a monkey yet again. Mimicking that look, he lifted his hands, drew his thumbs across her jaw, and fifteen seconds later Revali was shrieking at him over a pot of burning meat.

“Is _this_ what’s been going on with you two?!”

“I don’t know what you’re getting at.”

The Rito had a connipition at that, hissing, “Are you _thick?”_ A gust of wind was sent his way. “The king is going to have you _quartered_ for touching her like that, you _halfwit!”_

Link smiled, serene and gentle- a hand on his chest. Though, his words were thick with derision as he said, “You’re worried about me? I’m _touched.”_

The rage that tumbled over Revali’s face was chilling; for a moment, he was certain that Rito was going to draw a bow on him, yet he swung a wing out to Urbosa and calmly demanded, “If you’re going to smite him, do it _now.”_

Urbosa raised her eyebrows and pursed her lips. Lazily, the woman lifted her hand to snap her fingers. Something buzzed through Link before he staggered, yelping in both literal and figurative shock.

“Hmm,” the woman inspected her hand, chuckling, “I must be out of juice.”

Still bent over and trembling, Link sent the woman a fearful look. A snake: that’s what her sharp grin made her look like. She winked and he paled.

“Revali,” Zelda spoke up to reassure him carefully, “it is alright, I promise. My father is already aware of the circumstances.”

Silence.

“...Your Highness,” he tilted his head. Something was there, barely contained underneath his light tone. It was probably more fury. “What exactly... does that mean?”

Her bashful nature returned. It was while she struggled red faced to find the words that Link began to undo the strap holding his sword.

“Well- I know this may come as a surprise. A- A shock, really, but upon our return from Lanayru Link and I….” she sucked in a sharp breath and blurted very rapidly, “we will be engaged!”

He had the scabbard in his hand now, tossing it up and down during the heavy silence. Daruk, boisterous and optimistic as ever, would be the first to break it, “That’s good to hear! Congratulations, little princess, I’m relieved you two worked everything out!”

For a third time that day, he choked as Daruk nearly smacked him face first into their burning dinner.

Revali was stony. Wide eyed. Empty. Link watched it all bubble up in him- his feathers raising on end as his beak slowly opened. His words had a rising pitch to them, venom there and spilling over: 

“Are you telling me that _nitwit_ is going to be _king of Hyrule?!”_

Her meek, toothy grin was enough of an answer. The Rito’s attention snapped toward Link. Wings flapped furious and indignant, but before another word could be spewed, he merely threw his sword across the cooking pot. Reflexively, Revali caught it.

“What was that point of that?” he seethed, waving his sword around. It rattled. “Are you a _child?!_ I swear to Hylia this country...”

The Rito’s voice died as he teetered, looking at the blade with perplexity. Link was almost taken back that he was still standing: crossing his arms with wonder whilst his victim swayed. Unsteady. It was genuinely impressive how long it took for the effects to take root, but, inevitably, they did.

Mipha flinched out of the way, gasping as she watched that bird collapse into the dirt. She actually ran in place for a second before kneeling, frightened that Revali had given himself a stroke in all his raving.

“Oh, Goddess, what happened?!” she was blubbering while looking him over, hands here and there in a panic.

Zelda’s eyes slid toward Link. Her hands moved to her hips. _“...Link._ Was that honestly necessary?”

“He can sleep it off,” he countered, his tone logical. “You know he was going to throw a tantrum the entire night.”

The princess glanced back down at Revali who was still cradling the sword like it was a teddy bear. Urbosa was also looming over the Rito, a finger tapping at her chin.

“That is _quite_ something,” she purred, taking a sharp glance at the girl next to her. “I remember you wrote to me about this, yet seeing it in action is even more intriguing.”

“Yes… It won’t harm him if we leave it with him, will it?” Zelda asked that, and yet she made no attempt to remove it.

“Perhaps it is best we not experiment on our poor Rito. He’s had a hard enough day as it is,” a benevolent suggestion, albeit a tinge mocking. 

The princess bent down and tugged that weapon out of Revali’s grasp. Link expected her to hand it to him, yet she never did. The only thing he was gifted was a pointed look which told him she had no intention of returning his Goddess given toy.

It would be confiscated for the night.

Daruk, a Goron to his core, raised a hand. “Tiny princess, do you think I could give it a go?”

Zelda looked him up and down only once. A glint sparked in her eye, and needless to say it was quickly passed along. It took eighteen seconds before the earth rumbled. Daruk planted onto the ground, dirt flying, and snored peacefully next to Revali. It was a new record.

The princess jotted that down.

Mipha examined the two starfished Champions at her feet before taking a deep breath. She lifted her face, jewels swaying, and smiled.

“I’m happy for you both,” were the words that came out of her mouth. “Truly."

Zelda would thank her, still flustered by it all. The Zora girl nodded, the movement jerking. Harsh.

Another breath, and then:

“The trip has been too long, hasn’t it? I fear I may be even more tired than these two,” she hopped over Daruk, picking up her spear along the way. “If you’ll excuse me, I think I’ll retire for the night.”

“Goodnight, Mipha,” the Hylian girl called after her, softly.

A wave from her to Zelda. Nothing was offered to him, however; Mipha would not look his way. But that was fair, because he could hardly stand to look at her, either.

He sighed as the patter of her feet grew inaudible. He wasn’t sure if it was from relief or the result of a wad of guilt writhing where it didn’t belong. Zelda’s face was still hidden from him: her attention lingering in the empty space Mipha had left behind.

Then, her head swiveled, evaluating him.

Lips parted. Eyes soaked in that blank space one last time, and fell to dirt and dust. Sobered. Dots connecting as she searched weeds and memories alike for proof of whatever conclusion she was drawing.

Then, at the end of it all, green found blue, and the question there was clear for him to see.

_‘Is this cruel of us?’_

Link’s jaw tensed, and he gave the only answer- the only excuse he had:

“I was tired of hiding, too.”

What was there to do? He wondered. 

Somehow, he didn’t know enough, understand enough about the girl he’d known his entire life to dredge up even one theory on the matter. Maybe that was another thing that was worthy of shame. Realizing just how much of a stranger his oldest friend was to him so late.

It was disappointing. It filled him with a sour regret he didn’t know how to reconcile.

It was moments later that Urbosa kicked over his brooding along with their burning pot, proposing to the two of them, “I’m famished, aren’t you?”

There was a nod from both, and soon the scent of a mackerel dinner was wafting over the stables.

  


* * *

  


Mipha was an early riser. Even earlier than him.

He spied her: a glimmer of silvers and red as she sat atop the river’s bridge. Legs kicked through the water as she watched mist drift through the Dueling Peaks’ mountain pass. 

Should he or should he not?

He would, he thought.

“...Good morning,” she greeted, barely managing to so much as glance his way.

A greeting of his own was said, and he was soon sitting two or three feet from her- cross legged as he tried to catch sight of whatever it was that left her so transfixed by the babbling water passing below them.

The wind was stronger than the day before. The trees were a roar behind them; the water rolling over itself, lapping against the shore. Foliage caught in the stream- in the air.

There were thoughts in his head. They were scattered like marbles even after an entire night of ruminating. Link did the best he could to gather them, and blurted the first coherent one he found.

“You know, for the last few years, I want to apologize-”

“That is not necessary,” was her flat interruption.

He couldn’t understand that. Her face was unreadable; it was shrouded. Worry spiked in him.

“How?”

The girl's hands moved, drifting over the metal spear in her lap. Her feet drew currents in the water, tracing circles. There was a breathy laugh which came from her, a giggle almost, that was laced with incredulity. 

Mipha spoke as if the answer was obvious and completely and utterly inconsequential, “Because you don’t owe me anything, Link.”

_Oh, Hylia._

“Mipha-”

“It’s fine, I promise you-”

“It’s not about _owing_ you.”

She was finally looking at him. Yellow eyes rounder than usual. His insistence finally broke through her equable exterior, iron clad as it was. He peered through that crack in her mask as best he could, but came up with nothing.

It was always like this, wasn’t it? 

Mipha hiding: cramming everything down far enough that it had no chance of seeing the light of day. A lamb to the slaughter, that girl was. A willing one, to boot, and he hated it.

His hand was against the wood. Rough and splintering like his voice. “You saved my life, Mipha- you taught me to read. You were the only reason I wasn’t lonely, you know that? I’m not here to satisfy some debt. I'm just- I'm your friend, aren't I?”

She’d spoiled him far too much, he’d tell her. Despite all her strictness, that girl never held him up to the standard she should have.

“I’m ashamed,” he admitted, hushed. “I’ve been so wrapped up in all the problems I made for myself that I’ve spent years ignoring all of yours."

No words passed her lips. He looked to the sand, the mountain tops, the stable, her spear, to a hundred things as he tried desperately to find the right words.

“What... I mean is- if there’s anything you ever need to say, I’ll listen.”

Still, Mipha remained stoic. Unmoving as she regarded him with something he couldn’t make out. She was nothing but a door shut right in his face. Barred. Locked. Try as he may to garner understanding on his own, in the end he could only knock on that door and pray there was an answer. Any answer to explain. To tell him what he could to do repair the broken bridge which had resulted in it all: the lie she forced him to reveal, the belief that he couldn't be reasoned with, trusted, or spoken to. And now, the distance she maintained from him by fleeing at every given moment Zelda lingered too long near his side.

Link frowned and sat taller, turning to gaze to the mountain pass again. Fretful.

The silence stretched so long he was certain it would be permanent. Yet, her voice would eventually come: faint and tired.

“I am sorry, too,” he was going to protest, but just as he did, the girl forged on in gathering her own thoughts as best she could, “I can hardly expect you to read my mind, can I? I will not deny I have been upset, but you should know it is more with... myself… for- for never having the courage to speak. To… confess anything.”

Something heavy was in the pit of his stomach. Dread, maybe. It was true then, was it? Nearly a year he'd spent going back and forth wondering if he was imagining things. It'd been maddening, really, yet to his frustration, there was no relief to be found in her admittance; hearing the truth did scant against the uncertainty nor the unease.

Jewels clinked and she was facing him. Nothing was hidden there. It was just a rueful smile plastered across her features. Her back was straight unyielding, yet her expression made him think she was nothing but a crumbling tower feigning stability.

“But… I shan’t be holding on to it any longer,” her voice grew ever quieter. Weaker. “It’s far too late, after all, _isn’t it?”_

Mipha would not tell him the extent of it. That was alright, he supposed. She was free to do whatever she wished with her feelings for him. That girl had the answers she needed whether he voiced them or not.

She had no intention of giving in to the allure of false hope.

Words escaped him. He could only nod.

She sucked in a sharp breath, and kicked at the water a little more roughly, stating, “You may think you did nothing for me, but I will have you know that is far from the case. You assuaged my own loneliness time and time again, and I was inspired to fight because of you... To defend myself and my people... And… and so much more.”

Two more breaths. Fingers interlaced now.

“Well, we ask, what is it we wish to be able to provide one another?” Mipha nodded, the movement self-assured. “I say support. Proper companionship... So let us start over, shall we?” 

The princess got to her feet, sticking her spear into the wood and extending a hand toward him. “From this point forth, we are honest and open with our troubles… How is that?”

The Eastern sun lit up her face, highlighting a smile less rueful than it was benign. Less shadowed. Her face found a reflection in his own before he took her hand. She tugged him to his feet with surprising strength for her stature, and laughed when he almost tripped into the water. 

A deal was made. A promise.

This time, he swore, he wouldn’t make a mess of it. Second chances were a rare thing, after all, and he would not waste them. Hopeful as he was, he never imagined he would look back on it all so bitter and angered; it couldn’t have been more than three days before it was all snuffed out- that future robbed from them.

Regardless of all the irony, grief, and unfairness, that conviction of his remained: he would not waste a second chance. Especially one that Mipha herself gifted to him through that shrine.

Support. Companionship. She kept that promise of theirs even through death.

_Don’t waste it._

Those were words he told himself again and again, even as he knelt broken and battered amidst a valley of dead trees one hundred years later.

His heart beat in his ears, his breathing ragged. He was coughing, struggling to breathe. Blood. It was his own, draining from lacerations and burns still numb and blackened from heat. It dripped onto grass, seeping into dirt and trailing down the dull, chipped blade in his hands. He clung to that shoddy thing for support, hands clasped above his bowed head almost as if he was in prayer.

Blinking away the fog in his vision, he lifted his head to survey the dead strewn around him.

Monsters lay on top of one another; they were in piles buried beneath Guardians broken and snapped to pieces. A Lynel was crumpled somewhere in the mess as well, dissolving; and the mist filtering from all those monsters was enough to blot out the ethereal light filtering from above. Undulating shadows passed over him like plumes of smoke beneath sunlight.

“Are we done yet?” he shouted to the disembodied voices which had guided him into these accursed trials. Strained at it was, he doubted it had the arrogant, humorous effect he was hoping for.

There was no reply. All Link could do was stand, tug his weapon out of the earth, and drag it along with him to the next pedestal. On to the next floor. The next hoard.

Two months it took to complete that barbaric ritual. It’d been that long since he’d last spoken with Impa, as well. Though, he imagined Purah was sending plenty of letters assuaging that old woman’s worries while he lay crumpled and beaten in a corner of her lab: sleeping beneath a blanket Symin had thrown on him at some point during the night.

Pen was scratching against paper somewhere by the glow of a lantern, confirming that suspicion of his.

Just barely, his sword was unsheathed- his grip loose. Lazy. That blade glowed brighter than it had ever before, and he squinted against the pale light it cast across his face. Pained by the sight of it, he drew it closed with his fingers. Metal scraped. Grating. Too loud in the quiet.

Blearily, he saw the Sheikah girl-woman look up from her writing, chasing the source of that noise. Glasses reflected candlelight. All he could make out was a deep frown on her face before she continued scribbling up her report to Impa and he, himself, drifted off. It couldn’t have been a very good report as pathetic as he looked. It was one of many, really; Link’s presence in that lab had become an incredibly common occurrence over the last few months. If he wasn’t busy with the Master Trials, he was there, standing in a storm of maps and ancient reports alongside Purah.

He’d doubled, tripled his efforts in tracking down shrines he’d yet to complete. His old friend had been a crucial partner in his search, contrasting and comparing her knowledge from one hundred years ago with places he’d already been. Together they’d drawn quite a thorough map of Hyrule’s hidden temples.

One hundred and fifteen. Link was beginning to think there would be no end to them. The trials nor the tribulations.

Purah must have pitied him to a degree, what with not even bothering to shoo him out of her workspace and to a proper inn or, Goddess forbid, his own house down the road. It was a relief to him. He didn’t want to be alone; but he didn’t want to be around strangers, either. Not then. Not that night. 

Thankfully, she knew him well enough to understand that.

When he awoke again, it was still in the dark hours of the morning. His head remained tilted against the floorboards as a cup was placed in front of him, glass clinking.

Tea. Chamomile. A flavor the Sheikah sisters couldn’t and wouldn’t do without.

“...How’re ya feeling, Linky?” 

His eyes slid up to discover it was Purah who delivered that offering. Even as a four-foot tall child, she loomed over him from that angle: adjusting her glasses with both her hands. She appeared anxious. Fretting.

He groaned as loudly as Impa when he sat up, hunched over.

“Better,” he stated, looking over the hideous bruises along his arm, wounds courtesy of boulders sent flying by a particularly vicious Talus.

“I got a letter from my little sis,” she said as she passed a note towards him. “Something about Lanayru?”

He reached out, eager. 

“The snowstorms wouldn’t let me pass,” he muttered, reading through the parchment. “I tried the first year but,” he rubbed harshly at his eyes, trying to see the letter clearly, “I couldn’t get even halfway… I remembered- I think I remembered climbing behind Zelda. Nothing else.”

The rest of that memory had been hidden behind torrential winds and air colder than Hebra. He’d asked Impa for help regarding finding a way around years ago; yet the priestess had no answers. They had raged for nearly one hundred years, she claimed, just about dashing any hope he had. Though faithful as always, Impa merely told him to wait for them to pass.

For three years they never did. Until now.

“They’re calm,” he breathed with rising urgency. Link downed the tea Purah offered and stumbled to his feet. “I need to go.”

“Uh, ok, bring a coat!” Purah called after him- both sarcastic and serious given his reckless abandon in the past.

He skidded to a halt, mouth open. There was a curse before he snatched up his Slate. “I can’t forget-”

_“Huh?”_

“I got a present for you guys.” Link raised the device over Purah’s table.

Blue flashed, and a particularly large ancient core thudded onto the wood. Her response was to gasp as if her soul left her body, and a second later she was bouncing up and down, clambering onto the tabletop. Barely hiding his amusement, he watched as she cradled it like it was her first born.

“These are so rare!” the Sheikah ran in place, excited, but suddenly stamped her foot. He flinched when she scowled at him and yipped, “This had to have taken you forever to find! How many lasers did you get hit by trying to find this?!”

Says the woman who made him chase a Divine Beast and spend weeks battling Taluses. It made him smile, though. She really had grown to have a soft spot for him, hadn’t she?

“I got lucky,” he dismissed it, hands on hips. “It only took three.”

It’d taken _sixty_ -three, but she didn’t need any more reasons to smack him with a clipboard and call him dumb.

Purah knew better than to believe him, yet melted anyway. “Gosh, if I wasn’t four feet tall I’d smooch you right now!”

He sputtered, laughing, and waved it off. 

Symin shouted a thank you from his corner, unwilling to tip toe over the ever encroaching barrier his director had drawn in chalk. Link waved and told Purah to share before opening the map in his Slate. The last thing he saw before being swallowed up by a swath of blue was that small girl shouting at her assistant to grab a wrench.

It took less than an hour for him to arrive.

There was rain even at the base of Mount Lanayru. It mingled with hail: frigid air rolling down from those steep slopes and scattering crystals of ice across the expanse. His breath fogged as he pulled his sword from the nape of a Lynel’s neck. 

He leapt off it, leaving it behind as it disintegrated into nothing.

Link’s head was swimming, his hood blowing back from his shoulders as he climbed that slope. Pine trees creaked, swaying and bending and groaning; the storms hadn’t settled completely, yet it was just enough for him to break through.

The stairs were long neglected; they were jagged stone coated in ice. He would have slipped if not for his snow boots. Zelda slipped often with sandals hardly made for a climb like that. Her fingers bled when they scraped across the rough surface. The bleeding stopped quickly, but only because the blood froze over those wounds.

Her lips blue, shoulders tensing against the wind. She wouldn’t stop, clawing her way up that mountain like an animal.

Those memories were all coming to him fractured, hazy, and out of order.

His mother’s grave. Lopsided, oddly shaped. A ring there in an offering box, left by his father, maybe. A rattle. Left by him, maybe, barely a few months old.

A hand against the earth. Daruk, troubled. Feeling something there beneath the surface. Something hungry, he said, hungrier than Death Mountain.

Lanterns flickering like a current in the night. Sheikah shrouded and watching and Zelda’s face only visible between the tips of Revali’s raised wing, eyes wonderstruck as she listened intently to his words.

 _‘Breathe,’_ he told her, _‘...it took me longer than you have.’_

A Lizalfos was leaping at him, trying to surprise him. It was cleaved in half easier than he expected. He could feel the heat pulse from his own weapon, melting the snow its tip hovered over as he continued on his march. It was buzzing with energy. Something was up there. Something foul waiting for him at the summit.

Link marched faster.

The air was getting thin. His ears were ringing, but it was the product of a memory. Zelda was screaming something, incensed and enraged- overwrought as her words snapped through the air like the sound of cracking ice.

(It was jarring to hear her voice again. She'd been silent since that park, sparing not even one whisper to assure him that her words weren’t falling on deaf ears. It frightened him, and Link spent many nights lying awake watching her light pulse from the castle in the distance as he hoped- prayed that she would call for help when she needed it. 

Faith he reminded himself. Have faith in her. One hundred years. What was one, two, three, four more? Maybe it wasn’t much for her, but it was becoming too much for him.)

There was another voice accompanying her own, yet it was soundless. More of a sensation than anything else. A tremor beneath his skin.

_...to yourself?_

_"I can’t be..."_

_-not?_

_"Because-"_

Link faltered and caught himself on a broken column. His head was splitting. Dizzy. It was deja vu worse than usual. But he was close, too close to stop and rest. Zelda was looking back at him from further up, after all, her dress and hair thrashing against the torrential winds. If she wouldn't rest then he didn't deserve to, either.

Pillars of ice were along the path; they lay along the earth haphazard and leaning every which way like spike traps laid by Bokoblins and Moblins. The sky- the horizon was walled off by clouds so thick it felt like night: no hint of the sunset and clear skies below.

Yet, it was bright in his memories. It'd been a bright green that reflected through towers of ice and saturated the hills so thoroughly that it pained him. Now it was nothing but flat gray. The color of ash.

Those voices continued to resonate. It drowned out even the howling of the mountain.

_...because you are mortal? Because you feel nothing? Because you do not believe?_

_"Because I would have felt something! Anything! I have bled and cried and received-"_

_-ithin you._

_"Then where?! Where-"_

_...understand-_

_"-done nothing but want this my-"_

Silence fell.

He could hear nothing but the sound of snow flittering across ice and rock. It was like sand over metal- or a shield scraping over a sand dune. No, it was like those waterfalls of sand drifting into the crater Zelda blasted through the earth. All the Goddesses, how- how did she do that?

What was she? _What was she?_

Link was on his knees, his fingers tangled in frozen grass. He was breathing heavily, but there was a dull ache in his lungs. A rawness scraped at his throat that made him choke on all the cold air. He looked up, the wind finally calm and snow no longer obscuring his vision.

“Naydra,” he whispered, hoarse and distraught. An eye rolled, locking onto him.

The immemorial serpent lay draped across a throne of ice. Reds, violets, yellow contusions pulsing in the dark. His eyes snaked along that spirit’s contorted body down to its jaw loose and hanging. Malice was thick: weighing it down, infesting it, and writhing along it.

Rot. Decay. The scent emanating from the ailing spirit was sickly sweet and laced with something putrid that made his stomach churn just the same as the air within the bellies of the Divine Beasts which had left him retching and nauseous for hours.

Link sheathed his sword. It was replaced with a bow in his hand as he walked up stairs leading to that spring’s center. The dragon moved. Its head lolled, a deathly rattle of air escaping it as it tried and failed to speak.

Yellow painted him when he stood underneath the bright light cast by that eye watching him so intently. It didn’t blink even as he raised the bow and drew it back.

Violet mist flooded the spring, and moments later Naydra was rearing up, slithering off its icy perch. Link stepped back to brace himself against the rush of air caused by that colossal being as it passed overhead. Water crashed, spewing forth against the rocks lining those pools of water. The storm would return. But this time the updrafts would be used to his advantage as he chased that dragon to the very apex of Mount Lanayru.

 _“Why don’t you want to believe it?”_ he’d asked, years and years ago. Flames licked at the open air, dispelling the cold.

Zelda’s eyes rose from that fire, morose- cheeks raw from all the ice and snow tearing at her skin. 

_“Because if it’s true…”_ her lip trembled. Her head shook, sluggish. Eyes watered, squeezing shut. A shuddering breath escaped inbetween her words, _“Then there really is something_ wrong _with me.”_

He was rising to his feet: standing straight as he climbed atop a pillar of ice to watch Naydra revolve around him. It swirled through that gray expanse. Weightless. Spiraling. Link’s bow was loose in his hands as he stood transfixed by it all. The dragon turned sharply, diving toward him, and he was nocking his weapon back again with a quick breath.

Another arrow. Another eye. Brick by brick, he thought, green and blue returning.

It continued on its path, plummeting to the earth below. Link would follow, running and leaping off his pedestal of ice. His heart was in his throat when gravity overtook him, yet the rush of it was clarifying, the adrenaline clearing the haze in his mind.

Memories unravelled themselves in full.

Zelda was sleeping against his chest after it all, slumped against him while they sat next to the fire. He watched the flames in silence, listening to the urgent whispering over his shoulder. The sound was a gentle chime, however; it was a melody he was somehow able to make sense of.

 _“...How soon?”_ Link had murmured in question. 

Light flashed from the blade on his back as an answer came.

_Weeks. Days... You must prepare now._

_“For what?”_

Zelda moved, sinking further into him. She sighed, humming contentedly: the ordeals of the day forgotten amidst the obscurity of dreams and the palliative warmth his touch provided. He reached around her, slipping the back of her hand atop his palm to inspect the scrapes and cuts still tarnishing her skin. Healing thanks to the spring. The only blessing provided to her that day, wasn’t it?

Link, too, sank further against Zelda even as the Sword’s answer knelled into the open air.

_For death, Master._

  
  



	22. Dearth Wisdom

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. Oh man you have no idea how hard writer's block smacked me in the face with this one
> 
> 2\. For anyone who hasn't seen it, I've thrown this into a collection bundled with another writing that tells a few scenes within Roots from Zelda's POV! I'm still on the fence of whether or not I'll extend it, so if anyone wants to see more / has a specific scene they'd like to see from her perspective feel free to let me know!
> 
> 3\. Not much else to say! Hope you guys like this one!!

They were going to be late. 

Link and Mipha stood somewhere between the stables and the waterfall, debating who would handle what situation.

To the right, Urbosa was above Daruk, furiously kicking his prone form; Zelda’s words regarding just how heavy of a sleeper he was were turning out to be true. The Goron hadn’t roused since Link’s sword knocked him unconscious: sleeping straight through the night. He appeared fine, however, snoring away.

To think even that woman was having trouble. Urbosa snapped her fingers. Lightning struck inches from Daruk’s head. Thunder rumbled and dirt sprayed over the Goron’s face, yet he didn’t even twitch. Link was starting to wonder what on Earth Impa had done to him to remove him from the firepit several days ago.

Their heads swiveled to the left.

Revali stood in water, overlooking a pair of legs kicking and tangled in thorns. Water was splashing as Zelda squealed, desperately trying to untangle herself from the vines and stakes surrounding that shrine she’d been eyeing not twelve hours ago. Somewhere in between all her scrambling there were a few curses Link had no doubt she’d learned from him.

Her curiosity must have gotten the better of her and overtook any shred of sense that could have prevented her from entering that unfortunate state. It was impressive she’d resisted the urge for so long, but, given everything, praise was the last thing she deserved.

Their Rito seemed less inclined to help than he was to stand flabbergasted and flinch away from sprays of water. Link felt tempted to join him in letting the girl learn her lesson.

Mipha’s angry groaning was uncharacteristic, yet entirely understandable. There was a breath, a straightened back, and then:

“Right! Well, it appears the left there will be needing my assistance more.”

Link was already walking off toward Daruk, just as exasperated as she was, “Yep.”

He shooed Urbosa away with little effort. The woman put her hands up and gladly relinquished her duties to him. She watched on, terribly, terribly amused as he put his hands around Daruk’s boulder breaker, readied the weapon, and slammed it right onto the Goron’s stomach.

Daruk was coughing for the next four minutes, but he was certainly awake, wasn’t he?

However Mipha managed to untangle Zelda from her bed of thorns, he had no idea. The Hylian girl stood whimpering as she plucked thorns from her clothing, letting her fellow princess poke at the wounds. The sight failed to garner sympathy from him because the longing glances Zelda kept sending towards that shrine told him all her whining was more from remorse that she hadn’t made her way through rather than pain.

“Does… Does anyone have a torch?” she questioned, pointing to the spikes and thorns blocking her way.

Link made sure to flick the side of her head as punishment. Maybe that would flip the switch to her common sense back on.

The girl swatted his hand away, looking more embarrassed than angry. Good, it worked.

Mipha waved her spear at Revali- scolding him for whatever portion of the incident he was responsible for. Link didn’t interject; he’d rather that Rito work as much arguing out of his system as possible before remembering anything that happened the night before.

Though, oddly, the hours would pass, but words from Revali’s beak would not. Instead he was above them, walking along the cliffs far out of their reach as they marched up steep inclines. Zelda would watch and pick apart his silhouette better than Link could. Green eyes flittering- a finger tapping at her chin.

Maybe he would ask for her insight later, but at that moment, he didn’t particularly care about whatever had him brooding. It seemed everyone in their merry band elected to spend their trip doing the same, after all.

It was when they took a break near pools of water that he took notice of the fields of clovers leading toward Kakariko Village. They crawled up the cliff sides surrounding them- framing water pouring from fissures in the stone. His fingers threaded through those plants. One, two three, he counted. None of them lucky.

His eyes wandered along the water. A figure was staring down from its reflection, their visage dark and obscured in its rippling surface. Link didn’t startle from the sight- he knew they were Sheikah guards already sniffing them out before they even made it halfway to the village. By the time he twisted his neck to glance up at them, they were gone: nothing but trails of pale smoke in their wake.

There were pillars of stone visible even over the cliffs, smeared green. Moss, he thought. The land there was well padded by greenery; it was good for muting footfalls- for lurking where one should not.

He imagined Zelda liked it.

Something hung in the air- a kind of density. With nothing but silence between members of their group, Link decided to ruminate on the feeling. Perhaps it was what left them all wordless and uneasy. On edge. Though, what perplexed him more was that he couldn’t tell if the tension was the result of eyes that were no doubt watching them or the girl marching steadily ahead.

Nothing on that road could strike Zelda’s fancy. No matter how glittering a stone or how peculiar the frog, she would keep her eyes trained forward- her stride purposeful and pace brisk enough that it took some labor to keep up with her. Like Akkala, deja vu told him. 

Somewhere to be, tests to be run, trials to be taken. Worth to be proved.

(The words she’d spoken to him on the way to Sanidin Park made him think that she would no longer do anything drastic to herself, yet looking at her now with the set of her shoulders and that pointed gaze, deja vu churned in his head again. Mingling with suspicion.

Zelda caught him staring and, after a moment of evaluation, smiled playfully. Memory sparked.

_'It’s not dangerous?'_

_'No,'_ her tone was breezy. It was deceptive as she kicked her legs, the bed shifting. Toes grazed floorboards. A distraction. _'Do you honestly think I could get away with anything while Impa is there?'_

That smile of hers did nothing to ease his anxieties. She’d lied to him with the same grin on Inogo Bridge, after all.)

Admittedly, there was little of intrigue to be found along the way; it was nothing but a river of green betwixt stone. Thus, time passed quickly: what with nothing to be done but retreat into their own minds even as the sun rose, drifted overhead, and fell into the West.

The sky above would be lit brightly by the sunset. Despite this, no light could reach them- nestled as they were in that deep ravine. Link imagined if he were pacing higher up next to Revali, their path would look more like a river of ink than one of flora.

Inevitably, the darkness grew to the point which there was only the ever growing pulse of fireflies and Zelda’s rattling lantern to guide their way. Therefore, it wasn’t long before even that Rito swooped down to follow their princess. They all revolved around her, mindful not to stray from the vicinity of firelight she cast.

Aged wood was in their sights.

The gates to Kakariko were as unassuming as one would expect from the Sheikah. Paper floating. String, fabrics hanging- dyed a color he could hardly identify in the shadows. However, light flooded through bright enough to pain his eyes, and Link shielded them with a hand as they crossed the threshold.

When he lowered it again, his breath caught in his throat.

Their pace came to a slow halt.

Zelda stood rooted in place, overlooking that village and lines of Sheikah kneeling at every corner. Heads of white hair- straw hats bent low to the earth. Each possessed a lantern of their own: lighting up the trail leading to the village’s center. The number of Sheikah was far more vast during that era. Well over a hundred in that space alone, all in attendance.

None spoke or uttered a greeting to their princess. No guide was necessary; their path laid out before them. She drew in a deep, shuddering breath, absorbed it all with the rise and fall of her shoulders, and took the first steps forward.

A young woman awaited them just beneath the steps to the High Priestesses’ dwelling. Pale hair spilling over her straight back as she, too, genuflected before the princess. 

Arms raised, blocking entry after Link and Zelda passed through the small archway leading up.

Two men guarding the entryway allowed none but their group’s Hylians to enter. They would leave behind the other Champions with no objections as the priestess attendant baited them up those creaking steps and through the doors.

Even back then, there was the scent of tea wafting out those doors. Chamomile was turning out to be more popular among the Sheikah than he’d thought. The entryway scraped open to reveal none but an old woman awaiting them.

It wouldn’t be another one hundred years until Link was told that the aging priestess was Impa and Purah’s own grandmother. She welcomed them with wide arms, the shadows cast by her movements long and slender. They scattered along the back wall: the result of a myriad of lanterns placed at her bare feet.

Warm as the smile on her face was, he couldn’t help but think the shadows at her back looked too much like the legs of a spider.

“We have been waiting with baited breath, Your Highness,” she greeted as her attendant kneeled before an odd, circular object.

Proper greetings were exchanged. A nod to him. Zelda would be given more information on just what her climb up Mount Lanayru would entail immediately after their pleasantries were satisfied; it seemed she wasn’t one to waste words.

“Brave yourself,” she warned, “the mountain has grown restless during the nights.”

Colder. Unforgiving. It was tradition for women of the royal family to climb alone, but the circumstances surrounding Zelda required an exception be made.

“Your attendant may follow, but he is forbidden from entering the spring whilst you are praying.” An instruction with no room for argument.

A pointed look was sent his way. Link had to suppress a smirk.

Ah, he thought. There it was: the devil in the details. Those waters were for Hylia’s descendants alone. If Zelda was brave enough to leave the pedestal and enter, he would be expected not to interfere, was that it?

When it came to him that was just beating a dead horse. Impiety, sacrilege. What of it?

Link had to suppress an even more bitter smirk.

At the end of her explanations, he expected the woman to insist that they all go to rest; yet he was quickly reminded of the Sheikahs’ odd obsession with the dead of night when she instructed Zelda to change into her ceremonial gown and ready herself for more prayers.

They were always more active in the dark. Eerily quiet and poised as the occupants of Kakariko Village were, their habits remained identical to their more chaotic other half: the researchers- scientists like Purah. They were two halves of the same coin. Blue or yellow firelight- it was all the same, wasn’t it?

Zelda would stay in that house to be guided by the High Priestess, and Link sent off to do as he pleased.

By the time he emerged from that house again, the villagers had all dispersed. Faint chatter had returned, and the Champions below were all breathing easier after the tension blanketing that town was lifted. Few of them dared to stray from the foot of that house, however; Kakariko’s warm welcome only went so far.

Mipha, ever drawn to water, paced around the edge of a small pool inspecting the tiny statue there. Daruk sat by a cooking pot next to Urbosa. Revali had flown off somewhere yet again. Snooping, he guessed.

Would he join any of them?

No, he thought. He was drawn elsewhere.

Link’s eyes wandered to ropes of fabric strung up, leading into another narrow pass. Wind swept through and tossed his hair. It carried the smell of dirt- of upturned earth. Snatching up a lantern of his own, he followed it. Memorial stones sat lopsided along the way. Graves, he realized. 

_‘She rests in Kakariko Village- our hometown.’_

His pace quickened.

It was pitch black there: the atmosphere daunting. Haunted. He knelt before those mounds of stone, searching, dusting away dirt and mud alike to read the names inscribed on them. One after the other, none what he was searching for. His hope was waning.

Where? Where was she? Where was she?

Dust fell and she was there.

_Harlow._

His breath escaped him a second time that night. 

_Wife. Mother. Daughter._

His jaw tensed. Straining.

Her grave was a modest thing. It hardly reached his knees. Chipped away. Cracked. His hand remained on the rough stone, sliding along it and down to a hole carved near the bottom. There was a small offering box tucked within- just as modest: splintering, warped, and discolored. Removing the lid was difficult; the dirt on it broke apart, scattering to the earth when he finally managed it.

Link’s mind was empty as he stared into it. His father had been right. The woman didn’t have much- didn’t have many people in her life. There were only two things rattling around inside that box. A ring: gold at one point, he was sure, but it’d long since lost most of that coloring. Then, a toy meant for a child.

What was there to do, he wondered? Something. He wanted to do something.

He wasn’t good with words. There were none he could think of to say, and despite spending the last few years listening to sermon after sermon, he couldn’t dredge up the memory of any sort of prayers to recite in his head.

Looking around that lonely space, an idea occurred to him.

His mother never liked the dark, did she?

Fingers grazed leather as he reached into a small sachel attached to his belt. Something glassy- sharp and misshapen. Green lit up his face when he took out that stone: the rock only about the size of his palm.

It was the same one he’d stolen from Zelda about a year ago in the desert. It’d been something of a comfort and, hopefully, it could maintain that purpose. Link would part from it without hesitation.

He didn’t need it anymore.

It was quickly tucked away in that box, the lid wedged into place, and returned to its little nook.

Inept as he was when it came to things like these, it was the best he could do. It was a small apology; a gift to try and make amends as always. Link remembered that he had admonished Zelda in his head for trying to apologize for her own existence, and yet there he knelt a hypocrite: doing the same thing against his better judgement.

He couldn’t help it- he couldn’t cast away the emotion in its entirety. That propensity for guilt was a curse right next to his foul mouth- neither of which he would likely ever be rid of.

_‘...Don’t be foolish, now, or your mother may rise from her grave just to smack you on the head.’_

A smile crept onto his face. His sense of humor must have really been morbid because the thought was amusing. Maybe she’d smack him with his own rattle, too- yank him by his hair like Urbosa.

It was silly of him, but Link reached up, curled his fingers into a fist, and batted at his own head.

Good enough, he concluded before patting the stone one last time and wandering off. 

  


* * *

  


They’d congregated again. 

All of them sat around that cooking pot, exchanging hushed words and wary glances. Thankfully, none of them were trying their hand at cooking this time.

Daruk’s hand was dragging along the ground when Link approached, tearing at grass. He lifted it, turning his palm over as if he was inspecting something. The other scratched at his head, contemplative and rather frustrated.

“I’m telling you guys,” he muttered, “something isn’t right.”

“Looks like normal dirt to me,” Revali snipped, standing a little farther in the shadows than the rest of them.

Urbosa was leaning over her crossed legs, trying to see whatever it was Daruk saw in that tuft of earth. Link dropped his sword and sat onto one of the stools, leaning in the same way that woman had.

“What’s not right?” he prodded, intrigued by the addled look on Daruk’s face.

His words were bewildered, “You guys can’t feel it? It’s shaking.”

“...A quake?” Mipha’s head tilted. 

“Yeah, it started a good few months ago and hasn’t stopped.” His arms spread wide, “...It used to be just on Death Mountain, but it seems like it’s everywhere else now, too.”

They were quiet. Eyes wandered across the ground as if they thought they might see pebbles bouncing.

A memory occurred to him. Link directed his attention at Mipha with a silent question. Her lips parted.

“What-” she stopped short, recalling the event herself. Then, her face turned toward Daruk. “That’s right...our waters have grown rougher over the last few months, as well. They feel… _off?_ I fear I can’t describe it well, but perhaps… perhaps it is similar to your situation?”

“Is that so?” He swung an arm out, chains catching light. He sounded eager- relieved, almost. “How about the rest of you? Anything extra strange you can think of?”

Link’s chin was in his hand, staring at the fire as he proposed, “Aside from hoards of monsters?”

Revali’s scoffing drew all of their attention. “So there’s a few earthquakes causing some rough currents and we got lazy with monster patrols. What of it?”

Urbosa sounded a tinge accusatory when she addressed that Rito, “You know, _you_ two are the same kind of drunk. I recall you going on for quite some time about odd blizzards and _unusual_ winds.” She gestured to the cliffs, going on before he could interrupt her, “Not only that, but you’ve spent nearly all your time lingering up there watching the sky, haven’t you..? It seems to me like you have your own suspicions regarding our Goron’s theory.”

The woman leaned back and crossed her arms. “I can’t say I’m not bothered, myself. Our desert has also been growing more hazardous... There have been many, many storms brewing in the South.”

 _“I_ was concerned about rain during our trip. Nothing more,” Revali shook his head. Curt. Dismissive. “You lot are all a bunch of superstitious-”

“Don’t be an idiot,” it was Daruk who decided to counter that, his words just as curt and the movement of his hand just as dismissive. “Only fools ignore the land! I’ll tell you, we Gorons know that better than any of you combined.”

The Rito stood a little straighter- taken aback by his tone of voice.

He continued, fervent. “And, I’ll tell you it’s never felt like this before. It feels like-” he paused, at a loss for words. “Death Mountain is always _itchin’_ for something… but this is worse, you _see?”_

His eyes swept over the entire group. “I’m telling you guys, something isn’t _right,”_ a large frown was there, yet he looked confident in the conclusions he’d drawn, nodding sharply. “...If there’s _anything_ you can trust, it’s a Goron’s instincts.”

Daruk’s final words were punctuated and his voice a harsher rumble than usual. Sincerity there. Obstinance- unyielding as he pounded a fist against his own chest. “We’re _made_ from that mountain; we _don’t_ ignore the land!”

Surprisingly, Revali turned to Link for an answer. “Come now. Even _you_ have to know this is ridiculous.”

They held each other’s stare. He stole a glance at the sword laying at his feet: tangled in clovers and weeds. Koroks were in his memory. The glow of silent princesses lighting up that Great Spirit’s grim expression.

“...The first time I was there, The Deku Tree said that something was coming,” his head didn’t move when his eyes slid back toward Revali. “...and that was a while ago, wasn’t it?”

Five years, almost.

Revali would say nothing to that, only slinking further into the darkness. He’d run out of protests- try as he had to deny the dread eroding away at the back of his mind.

Link sat up with a sigh.

He was never one for superstition. It was less than a year ago he’d thought the Calamity was a pile of nonsense, and a significant portion of him still felt that way. Yet, somewhere in the midst of it all, his mind had started to entertain possibilities that it never had before. It was more inclined toward the fantasy of it all: the best and worst of it.

Dread was there, eroding away at the back of his mind, too. 

It wasn’t just him. They’d all gone quiet while contemplating and considering. Link would be the first to draw in a breath.

“After this, we should avoid traveling until we have a better idea of what’s going on,” he advised. “Don’t bother coming back to the castle with us after this, either.”

Mipha protested, confused, “But, the king...”

“He’s right,” their Goron was standing now, determined. “We focus on protecting our lands and keep in good contact,” he turned to Link, jabbing a thumb at himself, “Leave the Divine Beasts to us and we’ll leave the princess to you. How’s that?”

None objected.

It was another half hour before the door slid open and Zelda emerged from that house. She paused, a hand on the railing as she stared down at her Champions all huddled around a fire scheming like a gaggle of thieves.

A smile tugged at her lips- a kind of amused fondness- before she descended those rickety stairs.

“Good evening,” she greeted as she joined them, picking up Link’s sword. “I’m pleased to see you’ve resisted the urge to use this on anyone so far.”

“That you know of,” was his retort.

The girl squinted at him and stepped back, holding that weapon closer to her white dress. Link tried to snatch it but she was quick, yanking it even farther out of his reach. He cursed his mouth. That was a mistake.

Accepting the consequences, he waved it off as Zelda plopped next to him.

“Little princess, you think I could-”

Her hand shot up. “My apologies, Daruk, but we have an early start tomorrow, and I’m afraid we can’t risk a repeat of this morning.”

The Goron wilted. Earth shook as he, too, plopped onto the ground to pout.

Link gave the princess a highly accusatory look. She sputtered, angry and red faced. “You! _Don’t_ you start. It was _one_ miscalculation!”

“So it only takes one miscalculation to get stuck upside down in a thorn bush?”

Zelda opened her mouth to refute that. Revali beat her to it. “Your Highness, I’m disgusted I’m agreeing with him, but you could have asked me to carry you over.”

She squawked. Link shrugged. “Even I could have thrown you.”

“Y-You were busy talking and _you_ were off flying somewhere-”

They were all bickering. Despite her valiant efforts to put forth a solid defense, it wasn’t long before Mipha, Urbosa, and even Daruk turned against her. Zelda would kick at pebbles when they all shuffled off to the inn, self-conscious. Link tried once or twice to take back his sword as they marched up the steps, but the girl kept a tight grip on it. Spite was all over her face.

He flicked her head. She flicked his.

Urbosa saw it fit to separate them before they squabbled any further, assisting him in prying the sword out of the princess’ hands and ushering both of them into their rooms. That was fine. A soft bed was plenty enticing despite how quickly the day had flown by.

His head would swim as his mind replayed Daruk’s words over and over, yet Link would not allow himself to be drawn along with the current; if there was one thing he’d become adept at after traveling with Zelda, it was ignoring whichever events of the day that tried to chase him into the night. As such, sleep did not elude him for long.

Back then, he was an early riser. Back then, his father’s daily and waking habits influenced him more- the habits of a guard. A knight. One hundred years later, it wound up quite the opposite. He imagined that it was his mother’s influence which took over- the habits of a Sheikah. A rouge more than a knight.

He theorized it was his slumber that engendered it: something the woman left rooted in him was finally able to worm its way to the surface after all the weeds and debris left behind by his past had been torn away by the Shrine of Resurrection. It was troubling; he was caught not knowing which side of him was more natural. His father’s colors. His mother’s shape. Which was it, he wondered?

Which was the proper version of him? Before or after sleep- after death?

Though, one thing that hadn't changed from one life to the next was that he was a light sleeper. 

Thus, he did not miss the sound of her footsteps passing by his room. It served as a reminder that unlike him, another girl had lived and breathed alongside the Sheikah for years. She’d had their own habits instilled within her that left her wandering awake at night. Always restless. Mind always buzzing away.

Heavier this time. She was wearing her boots again. There was no question as to whether or not he’d follow; he always did, being the worry wart that he was.

The girl was quick: she knew her way around that village better than he did. Link was fairly certain he would have lost sight of her if not for spying her trudging up a natural ramp toward a shrine that sat near the forest’s entrance.

To his interest, she did not stop there.

Through the forest, past a creek, across a bridge, and into an open space.

Zelda was always... _weird._ It hardly fazed him to see that her only goal that night was, apparently, to pace in circles in the middle of the woods. Light bounced alongside the lantern on her hip: shadows swirling around her. 

Her hands were wringing together. Nails digging into flesh. It seemed she’d gotten swept up in the current: anxiety surging, tugging, and pulling her away from sleep.

Frowning, Link took a step forward to cross that bridge until wind sailed over the treetops. A dark figure plummeted. Arrows rattled as a blue scarf floated. The princess didn’t stop pacing even as Revali’s dramatic entrance blew her hair around her shoulders.

“...Your Highness,” the Rito addressed rather awkwardly as he struggled to keep track of the girl walking circles around him, “what _exactly_ are you doing unattended in a forest?”

A bit of attitude was there. Link didn’t blame him.

“Planning,” she supplied, snapping her fingers. “I’m thinking of what to say.”

“...To whom?”

“The Goddess, of course! I can’t go in there without a _plan,”_ her words had an urgency to them. A bit of panic laced them together. “This is my last big chance, I _cannot_ mess this up, Revali!”

The Rito covered his face as he sighed, already questioning his choice to speak to her.

She was continuing to ramble- words mashing together. “This cannot go on any longer, don’t you understand? I am _tired_ of failure. _Everyone_ is tired of failure-”

A wing shot up. It stopped her in her tracks, the girl nearly falling over.

“Stop and _breathe,_ will you? You’re making even _me_ nervous.” Zelda stared. Her face twisted with distress as she opened her mouth, but Revali once again beat her to it, leaning down, “You want to know something? It took me longer than you have. _Years_ longer, Your Highness.”

His wing fell, yet she did not resume her pacing. A light breeze was still floating around them: grass drifting into the air. Her eyes seemed to follow those bits of foliage.

“...Your wind, you mean.”

It sounded more like a statement than a question.

The Rito hesitated to reply, “...You overheard me in the flight range, correct?”

“Yes.”

“And what I told you on Medoh?”

Her eyes flicked toward his face, a memory replaying itself. “...Yes.”

Those were things Link couldn’t make sense of- conversations he’d never overheard. But, whatever they were, they seemed to have an effect on her demeanor. It left him mystified, really. He suspected Revali’s words were easing her anxiety better than his own could.

“I’ve been at it for twenty years, Your Highness... I know the frustration,” Revali looked away, bothered by his own words, or rather, confessions. Still, a shred of self-importance remained when he snapped, _“Therefore!_ I know planning every little step won’t do a _thing._ It will come to you on its own.” 

She didn’t like that piece of advice. Her mouth contorted, and an arm swung out as she yelled, “That’s-”

“What it means to have _faith_ in yourself, ‘Highness.”

Link raised an eyebrow. Was that a term of _endearment?_ Surely that Rito didn’t have a soft side? It’d be too adorable. He very quickly resolved to find a way to tease him for it later.

Either way, that snuffed out whatever argument she had brewing.

It was a moment later that Revali scoffed, almost laughing. “I guarantee you that _boy_ didn’t have a single thought running through his head when he drew that sword, either.”

 _‘You think too much, quit letting it bury you,’_ he’d scold her.

The girl’s fingers interlaced, thumbs rubbing together as she thought it over. Eventually, the tension eased as she adopted some of Revali’s lofty repose.

Zelda’s mouth quirked a second later, mirth bubbling to the surface. “You took quite the gamble showing off like that in the flight range, didn’t you?”

A wingtip was pointed in her face as he tried to argue against that, but it only caused her to laugh.

Their voices dipped. Quiet, hushed. Though, her face seemed more relaxed as she conversed with that Rito. Wings would wave- good natured scoffs or huffs here and there. It was a curious thing to see; Link hadn’t realized those two were quite that friendly.

Nevertheless, the princess seemed to be in good hands that night. And so, he pushed off his tree, descended from those woods, and left them to their talking. 

  


* * *

  


The _‘nest’_ he’d heard people call it before. It seemed fair to him; Lanayru promenade was crawling with chantry folk.

He counted less than twenty Sheikah lurking along the path, indicating they were more inclined to remain hidden in their village: only trading here and there with the groups of Hylians and Zora just past the forest. 

Apprentices, priests, and priestesses would poke their heads out of rooms high above to catch a glimpse of their unusual group before vanishing into their burrows. Compared to other crowds within Hyrule, however, they weren’t nearly as wonderstruck or surprised to see them. It must have been business as usual, seeing high profile folk traipsing past. Still, something told him that like Kakariko, a few lips would curl if they dared to stray from the road before them.

(Link’s attention was often drawn by the archways looming overhead. Intricate. Etched patterns. More ancient than anyone knew, perhaps. Fabrics as pale as Zelda’s dress drifted against the wind here and there; and they would lead his gaze downward to the fountains babbling below.)

“Men aren’t allowed?”

His focus was dragged back into the conversation by what sounded like a complaint from Revali.

Zelda glanced back, tearing her eyes away from the Zora girl she’d been talking with. “Ah, yes. It is said the Spring of Power will corrupt men… Except for Gorons. They are allowed.”

Daruk burst out laughing.

“That’s ridiculous,” Revali balked.

“Sounds fair to me,” Urbosa joined in their Goron’s laughter. “We let them run free in my town- They’re far better guests than any other man I’ve ever met!”

“Oh, and Hylia’s Champion is allowed,” Zelda added.

“That’s even more _ridiculous!”_

Link tossed the Rito a withering look. “Were you planning on taking a trip out there?”

_“No.”_

“Then shut up.”

A gust of wind blew his way.

He ignored it, keeping his sights on Zelda. “What about the Spring of Courage?”

“Youth. None over twenty…” she glanced to Revali, her mouth pulling into a grin. “Except for Hylia’s Champion.”

The Rito threw his wings up and complained a third time. Daruk and Urbosa continued laughing- Mipha giggling right alongside them.

Hours later, Link realized just how Zelda was denied entry. 

There was a row of women awaiting them. Sheikah priestesses judging by their rather telling attire. Hats as large as Impa’s a century later, but draped in robes that made them look more like ghosts than anything else. All six of them bowed their heads, paper rustling. Bells ringing.

“Welcome back, _child,”_ one of them greeted. Link couldn’t tell what side of the line between mocking and good natured that tone of hers danced along.

Zelda knew better than he did: hands on hips with annoyance. “Thank you, Antistita… Well, how about it, then? Do I seem a little _wiser_ to you?”

The old woman clucked her tongue. “Willful thing. A better question for the Goddess, I say.”

The princess’ arms crossed at that. 

Was this some sort of old spat?

A hand waved and the women all stepped aside: their head priestess remaining where she stood.

“Come now, let us not waste time. We hope for you to reach the summit by nightfall… Our spring’s _attendant_ awaits you.” Her change in tone left him with a question or two, but he had no opening to address them before the priestess finally moved out of their way and the princess marched forward.

After a decade of waiting, Zelda would finish her pilgrimage. Feeling nervous himself, Link followed. 

Of course, they looked back one last time, taking in the line of fretful faces watching them go.

“Be safe, tiny princess!” Daruk waved alongside the rest of them. Save for Revali, who merely nodded with crossed wings before all four of them turned on their heels and retreated into the Promenade.

The moment they’d passed that gate, cold air swept across them. It would prompt Link to argue with Zelda, insisting she put on warmer clothes the moment they were out of sight. She adamantly refused. The Goddess’ mandate, she cited. Thresholds. Tradition.

Stupid was what it sounded like to him. It was ridiculous. Their breath fogged, he looked up that mountain, and back to the girl next to him. A blank stare. Set, resolute shoulders.

Like the face she wore walking off to that temple in Zora’s Domain. Off to be beaten. To be put through pain. In many ways he imagined the mountain before them would prove to be even worse. Cold burrowed deep, after all, deeper than bruises and cuts ever could.

This was what he was scared of.

Prayer nor pain would help her, yet what did that do to stop her? Nothing. A part of her still clung to that belief, desperate as she was.

He shoved a warm elixir into her palms, striking a deal.

“If I see frostbite, I’m forcing you to change,” Link warned. He made sure his stubborn expression matched hers. Zelda’s mouth twisted into a scowl, but she would meet him halfway on the matter.

That elixir gave her a little comfort, but that was just it: a little.

The winds were calmer back then, the storms having yet to rage in full. And although the air itself was warmer than Hebra, it was still plenty tortuous for a girl in sandals and a thin dress. Frost would still cling to her. It would still encroach over her limbs, her hair, and jewelry- metal which would leave imprints on her skin. Cold enough to burn flesh.

Slipping. Stumbling. Blood dripped into snow from torn palms. He’d call up to her, demanding she stop and rest. The princess merely stood looking back at him, hair whipping around her shoulders, chest heaving, and hands lifted- palms upturned as red continued to seep into the ground.

Zelda was weighing, deliberating over the necessity of his words.

Link quickly realized it would be up to him to be the only voice of reason on that mountain. Yet, it appeared she’d already gone deaf to it when she glanced toward the storm clouds brewing above them. Swirling. Wind growing harsher. 

“It’s coming,” she breathed, eyes rolling across the gray expanse. “We can’t afford to.”

_‘I’m sorry.’_

She’d repeat those words despite his protests, arguing with frozen lips.

_‘I’m sorry you have to see me like this.’_

By nightfall. They had to make it by nightfall, she persisted. Her body was shivering, yet the girl merely fisted her hands at her sides and turned away: marching onward. The growl that escaped him was easily drowned out by the howling of the mountain.

One, three, five, six hours of climbing. Several times he dragged her off against her will, forcing another warm elixir into her hands.

Pillars of ice grew taller. The sky grew darker. He took the lead, guiding them by the glow of a lantern. Lizalfos became hazardous and common. Far too many he sent tumbling down the mountainside, over cliffs, or left in pieces scattered across the stairs.

Zelda eyed the corpses as they passed, their smoke carried away by the wind and snow almost immediately. Fear there. Remorse. The High Priestess’ words hadn’t been an exaggeration; this wasn’t a climb meant for a girl who hadn’t awakened her sealing abilities. Without him there she never would have made it, and they both knew it- much to the princess’ visible shame.

Determination swept in as she forced her emotions down into whatever dark pit she had reserved for them. Her hand wrapped tighter around his, tugging as she matched his pace better.

Green emanated from above. Luminous stones were scattered in abundance near that peak: their light steady and untouched by the storm now raging below. Wind quiet. Rushing water. The pealing crack of ice echoing overhead.

Zelda collapsed at the base of that spring’s stairway, murmuring things he couldn’t make out. It didn’t matter; he was busy chasing after bundles of wood those priestesses left behind. Flint sparked. Orange bathing them. Her jewelry was cast aside: light metal thudding into snow.

The girl wouldn’t look at him when he inspected her hands. They were red and blotchy. She’d hidden the frostbite from him. Anger splintered, but Link wouldn’t scold her. He’d do it later. Later, when she didn’t look so broken. 

(He’d seen worse four months before the Champions’ ceremony. A troop was lost in Hebra, and he had to free them from several Lizalfos trying to break into their rickety shelter- trapping them in for nearly a week. Oddly, he’d stumbled into her on that trip, as well: the princess huddled in the midst of frozen monsters after some small Guardian caused a cave in near a Sheikah camp. Regardless, Zelda’s was mild in comparison, and so the fire would be cure enough.)

An hour later, she gathered her jewelry again.

“...I need to pray,” she said, stumbling to her feet. They shared a nod.

The princess sucked in one, two, and three breaths before they left that fire behind. Link was far from surprised when she made the decision to enter the waters. He’d allow it, he decided. But not for long.

Zelda winced when she stepped into that frigid spring, wading forth as he remained on stone. Minutes passed. An hour. She was quiet during that time. If she was speaking, he couldn’t hear her over the sound of rushing water. 

Link would check often, see her standing: hair trailing across water as she bent her neck back. Her skin was flushed from the cold, and it was the only thing that served as an indication she wasn’t some motionless statue like the one towering over her.

Somehow that concerned him more than yelling.

Link counted down to when the last elixir would wear off, his finger tapping against the handle of his sword with every passing second. By the time it came close, she was already shaking. Unsteady and trembling.

“Zelda,” he called.

She wouldn’t answer. He could already tell it was going to be a fight; the princess must have known, too, based on the way she turned her head before he could speak up a second time. 

“I can’t leave,” she defended, her voice strained. “I know if I keep trying I’ll get somewhere.”

A sigh. A hand running through his hair. “This isn’t like Akkala. You’ll freeze to death.”

Her reply to that was flat: blunted and bitter. “If nearly dying is what She requires of me then so be it.”

It was a risk he wouldn’t take.

“Zelda, _no.”_

Like that frostbite, she’d been hiding her frustration from him. It surged as she twisted, fists splashing into water and her face contorting with something that looked too much like grief.

“It wasn’t enough in Zora’s Domain! I’m sure of it!” a hand was on her chest. Scars were still visible from that trip. “They wouldn’t do anything _worse!”_

 _Hylia,_ where did he even begin?

Her voice continued to rise as it lost all familiarity to him. No longer soft- possessing an edge as sharp as his own. “They say the Goddess _loves_ Her descendants! She certainly saves _you_ from death all the time, so let’s see if She’ll do the same for me, why don’t we?!”

Water cascaded to the side as she swatted at it, fury overtaking her desperation and her voice pitched and raw.

“If She won’t answer my prayers then maybe She’ll answer to _proper_ pain!” 

The look in her eyes told him reason was lost on her. Teeth baring at him. That Goddess’ statue loomed over her back, greenlit stones casting Her shadow over the girl seething below.

Link refused to stoop to her raving. He stepped forward, ready to march in after her- drag that irate princess out kicking and screaming, but a flash of light sent him stumbling. Splashing water. Zelda was startling, too.

_Curious._

A voice rumbled beneath his skin, in his head. His eyes opened to see a clawed foot drifting downwards, settling on a pillar of ice. It split from the weight, and the sound snapped through open air like a band. The noise spurred both of them into motion. Zelda’s hand was already grasping his as he tugged her out of the spring and onto their stone platform.

Water splattered onto brick when she stumbled behind him, a hand on his shoulder as she breathed heavily. Fear rendered her mute. Strangely, he wasn’t nearly as frightened. There wasn’t any enmity radiating from the creature before them- not a hint of ill will to be found.

Link’s gaze trailed from yellow eyes, up to a crown of jagged luminous stone, and along its serpentine body as it curled, wrapping around the mountain peak.

_Forgive me, Mistress, I fell asleep waiting for you._

Its head bowed.

Zelda’s fingers slid off his shoulder as some sort of wonderstruck breath escaped her.

“...A dragon…?”

Lanayru’s steward: Naydra. Another page torn out of his childhood storybooks.

The two of them could do nothing but gape dumbly. When neither of the Hylians below spoke, the spirit took it upon itself to break the silence. 

Its attention drifted to Link.

_The Champion is already chosen…? My, early this time._

Then, back to Zelda.

_It has been too long, Hylia._

The princess was emboldened enough by its amiable tone to step forward, confusion there on her face. “Hy-? Pardon me, but… I am Hyrule’s princess... I’ve- I’ve come to this mountain to pray.”

_Pray?_

Somehow, amusement was conveyed through its soundless voice.

_To whom? To yourself?_

“I... think you are confused...” Zelda’s hands laid at her chest. “I am merely the Goddess’ descendant. Surely you have seen my predecessors come to this spring for generations?”

Naydra’s head reared up before extending further toward them. Snow was falling from its seat of ice as its body slithered further off, the dragon swirling around them: evaluating and weightless. Blue and green blanketed that platform. It made Link dizzy as he recoiled from the light.

_It appears I am not the one here who is confused._

The princess was still intimidated. She giggled, meek and wary as she tried to follow the gaze of its yellow eyes. “Pardon me again, but- I don’t understand your meaning.”

_Predecessors, you say. All vessels, yes, but none filled until now._

Naydra nestled back onto its throne- whatever inspection it’d been carrying out over with. For an elusive spirit that none had supposedly seen for several millennia, it was awfully chatty. Even more than The Deku Tree.

_You have yet to regain your memories, I see._

Her mouth opened to ask a question, yet she faltered. The words died in her throat. Eyes wandering here and there, thinking.

_Or, perhaps you have gained a few?_

“No- just,” Zelda’s reply was jumbled, nearly incoherent, “dreams?”

A breath escaped Naydra- a sigh, he guessed.

_I will tell you plainly, then. You are the Goddess incarnate. She who holds dominion over death and life._

The princess brought a hand to her forehead and squeezed her eyes shut, sounding irritated as if she was convinced an immemorial serpent was pulling her leg. “Are you telling me _I_ am supposed to be Hylia in mortal form?”

_Why, yes._

A light answer. A cocked head. _‘Is that so hard to believe?’_ were the words conveyed. A laugh escaped Zelda at that. Her rational mind could hardly wrap itself around it; there was little chance the girl was capable of believing something as outlandish as that without irrefutable proof. Something more was necessary than the ramblings of a dragon.

“You can’t be…”

She glanced to Link, a bewildered grin pulling at her lips, but it fell alongside her words upon seeing whatever expression he bore.

“...You- you can’t believe this, can you?”

He looked away to the spring water and the green glow paining his eyes. Red flashing. Naboris’s cry piercing, ringing his ears. What else had been rattling around in his head?

As Naydra suggested, Mipha said prayer wouldn’t help Zelda. Maybe he’d been right in thinking there was more to that statement of hers than she let on. The more he thought about it, the more he believed that suspicion of his.

The list was long, reciting itself in his head as it’d done a thousand times.

The princess was quick to heal- even quicker than him- and impossible to poison. Even the Zora progenitors had bowed at her feet in reverence. Then, winds pushing and pulling wherever she looked. What about her thoughts worming their way into his own during that ceremony just like the dragon watching them?

She always knew him better than she should, didn’t she? Always knew where he was, where he was hiding. _What_ he was hiding. 

These were all small, coincidental observations, but over time they had started to pile up: paint a picture he couldn’t make sense of.

None of it was right for a girl who was only supposed to be capable of hearing voices and sealing away monsters. All the women in that family had ever been were messengers and exterminators.

But, what else could she be?

Something told him the answer might have just been given to them. When he met her eyes again, she looked offended. Link had difficulty processing that expression of hers; there were too many nuances to it all.

“I can’t be…” Zelda said more to him than that dragon looming above.

_Why not?_

Her head twisted back to Naydra, challenging, “Because-”

 _Because you are mortal? Because you feel nothing? Because you do not_ believe?

There was amusement in its tone again, yet the undercurrent beneath it was as condescending as the priestess stalking the base of Mount Lanayru. There was something chiding in the way its head reared up; and it reminded him of a snake coiling, ready to bite. Claws dug into ice.

Naydra was talking down to her. The action was all too familiar to the both of them, leaving him unsurprised when anger spiked in Zelda’s voice yet again. Despite all her shivering, she threw her arms out, arguing vehemently against it all.

"Because I would have felt something! _Anything!_ I have bled and cried and received not a shred of light-"

_There is nothing to receive. It is already within you._

The sound that escaped her was distraught, baffled, and disbelieving at once. Her hands curled into fists, nails digging into the flesh- into the wounds there until blood seeped from them a second time.

“Then _where?!_ Where is it?! Tell me so this horrid pilgrimage can _finally_ be over with!”

_You must understand-_

“I have done nothing but want this my entire _life!”_

Ice snapped again. Pieces shattered and fell into the spring, water lapping against stone. He sucked in an anxious breath; Link wasn’t sure if that break was from Zelda’s voice or Naydra’s claws scraping along the frost.

 _You have done nothing but want_ power.

Accusatory. Naydra pushed off the ice. Its entire body floated, rippling like the thin blankets scattered throughout the Promenade.

 _It shall come to you when your heart is open to_ proper _change._

Zelda called out, more distraught than angry or disbelieving now, yet Naydra was already gone: diving into the storms below, resuming whatever its duties were for that night. Wind rushed, snow spraying overhead. They were left in silence, standing in a halo of white powder dusting past their feet.

Her toes curled against the rough stone. Arms wrapped around her. Trembling. Head dipping and hair slipping over her shoulders.

Link wouldn’t need to tell her to leave the spring behind. She was already gone, too, padding down the stairs and toward the fire- seeking the only warmth that mountain had to offer.

Cotton was soon wrapped around Zelda. A blanket. A cocoon.

Only her eyes were visible above her knees. Nothing appeared to be behind them. For once, her mind seemed to be empty even as ten, twenty- forty minutes ticked by.

Link was sitting on the other side. He’d tried to reach out more than once, but the girl flinched away each time: unwilling to accept comfort. It was likely he couldn’t provide it. Not when it came to this. He’d done the same, after all. Reject sympathy, solace, and support for years by swatting away anyone who tried to reach out- biting any hands that tried to feed him.

Maybe space was what she needed. He didn’t know. She wouldn’t tell him.

Thunder rumbled from somewhere below. The mountain quaked, and his attention wandered up to Zelda’s face again. Her eyes flicked to his, but tore themselves away just as quickly. Angry. Hurt. Clearly, her mind had started to churn again.

“...Why don’t you want to believe it?” it came out as a whisper, that question.

Moments passed. Slow as it was, his words had enough pull to them to drag her out of her own head. Green met blue. His reflection there: distorted by tears that had yet to fall.

“Because if it’s true…” her breath shuddered as she tried to maintain her composure. Zelda’s tone wavered, trembling and fraught with shame. Like Naboris. Like the Spring of Power. “Then there really is something _wrong_ with me.”

Hands were on her face over her eyes, hiding from him.

These were old habits, weren’t they?

Suddenly, she sniffed, and her lips twitched into a scathing smirk.

“It’s so _fascinating_ isn’t it?” the princess ground out between her teeth, her eyes still hidden but fingers curling and dragging across her skin. “If it’s all true, then that sword must _really_ be what binds you to me. You truly are _Hylia’s Champion.”_

She spat out those last words like they were something foul.

 _That_ Link wouldn’t tolerate. He leaned forward, objecting harshly, “That’s not true-”

“Oh be _quiet,_ will you? You don’t know anything!” Zelda’s hands fell as she hissed at him, yet her fingers remained poised like claws at her own throat. “You’re Hylia’s favorite _mutt!”_

Hurt must have been written all over his face because she looked away immediately, disgusted by the sight. Silence fell and she would only glare at frozen grass. Stiff like her. The girl wouldn’t take back her words; it left him short of breath, needles in his chest.

Did she still hate what he was that much?

_‘He doesn’t hate anyone, he was just scared of Hylia drawing a line between him and the people he cared about.’_

Terry. His words suddenly resurfaced.

_‘I think he ran away from people ahead of time- to avoid the rejection he’d falsely convinced himself was inevitable.’_

Was that it, he wondered?

It didn’t take much deliberation before he stood. Zelda moved like she wanted to back away from him as he knelt in front of her, but the blanket tangled in her limbs wouldn’t let her. When she put a hand up to stop him he grabbed it, holding her in place.

“Look at me,” he instructed. She wouldn’t. Link sucked in a breath and pressed on, “Fine. Listen to me, then. I’m not going to bother giving you a list of reasons why it isn’t true. You’re too smart to believe something that stupid.”

Teeth grit. Zelda stared down; she’d rather be blinded by the fire than look at him. His fingers brushed aside the stray hair on her face. Imploring. Adamant. “You said it was a baseless fear, and it still is.”

 _‘I’m not scared of you. Nothing’s changed,’_ he’d tell her.

It was true- nothing had changed. Goddess incarnate? The knowledge was undaunting. Even the first image he could conjure of her in his head hadn’t been warped in the slightest: A girl covered in dirt and twigs offering some wiggling creature or nasty potion to him time and time again- a dumb, toothy grin on her face.

“We’re better than this, Zelda... Aren’t we?”

She finally turned her face to him. Too many things to make out. Guilt, self-pity, fear. He could see it, though, the relief. Her arms were reaching out, grasping, allowing him to finally draw her toward him.

The truth of the matter was that there were very few of her worries that he could assuage that night. One was enough for now, he thought. In the end, only so much could be done in one day.

“I’m sorry,” she was insisting against his chest, arms clinging to him. _“I’m so sorry.”_

Link’s chin rested on the top of her head, eyes closed as he murmured, “I know.”

“I love you.”

“I know,” he breathed. “I love you, too.”

_“I love you.”_

She’d say it again and again- apology after apology until her voice grew faint, distant, and her arms limp. The girl finally escaped the current. Though, he would linger in it for just a while longer, thinking. He watched the clouds pass overhead. They moved quickly, and he could just barely catch glimpses of starlight. Light flickered, yet it wasn’t from above.

_...aster._

Was that the wind? Something flashed again, a bell ringing. Clearer this time.

_Master._

There was a voice that sounded close: a whisper in his ear. Strangely, he didn’t startle from it- the day had reaped too many surprises for him to care.

“...Me?”

Another chime. He almost thought it was an exhale.

_I am relieved that you can hear me, now. I have news, Master._

Straight to business, apparently. Link wouldn’t complain. Just the same way he could make out its voice, he had an inkling as to the identity of the newest disembodied voice that night. Zelda had referenced it, too, along the shores of Kolomo.

“Of?”

_The Calamity approaches._

It was real then, was it? Link didn’t want to believe it, but- well, he’d be quite hypocritical to do so. He’d raised an eyebrow or two at Zelda believing an immemorial serpent was messing with her little more than an hour ago. Why would some immemorial sword waste its time doing the same?

A breath escaped him, yet the dread remained taught in his chest. 

“...How soon?”

_Weeks. Days… you must prepare now._

The urgency there was unusual. His frown deepened as he drew his hand up Zelda’s arm- dispelling the cold trying to linger there on her skin.

“For what?”

She pressed into him, chasing something. Warmth, maybe. Link was growing tired himself, curling into her. Gravity, it felt like, drawing him closer and pulling at the threads of his consciousness.

_For death, Master._

His eyes shut tight, huffing. Of course. Of course he knew that. He’d become blasé to death throughout his time as a knight and Hylia’s Champion; these things were expected in wars, weren’t they? But, he felt there was something else strange about the Sword’s tone-

“What do you mean?”

_You must hide._

_“Hide?”_ that left him incredulous. He’d be amused if he wasn’t so baffled by it.

_As it stands, you have a zero-percent chance of victory._

Link’s head rose, breath fogging. There was a fear surging in his lungs and confusion muddling his thoughts. “...What?”

_Without our Mistress’ abilities, Calamity Ganon cannot be defeated._

“There’s-”

_The Guardians will not be enough. They will fall._

“The Divine Beasts?”

_None can seal it away, Master._

“Even us?” A hushed whisper. Panicked.

_Even us._

Denial seized him.

“It doesn’t matter,” his voice was insistent. Louder than it should be. Zelda’s hands moved.

Rhoam always insisted it was necessary that his daughter awaken her abilities; but Link had never cared. Killing monsters was far from difficult, and Calamity Ganon was just one more at the end of the day. He could do it alone- he’d always done it alone. Why would anyone try to seal it away? All he had to do was cut it to pieces like the rest of them.

He was getting swept away by the current, his grip on the princess tightening. The entity on his back already knew what was running through his head when it spoke again. It was possible the Heroes of the past were all as hard headed as he was. Predictable. That theory was given credence by just how harsh and blunt the Sword’s warning would be:

 _Master, Calamity Ganon_ cannot _be killed._

“So we’re supposed to run?” he bit out. “For how long?”

_However long it takes._

Zelda’s head was rising from his chest, hair spilling over her face.

“...Link?” she questioned, her words a slur. “Is something wrong...?”

_There is no hope for Hyrule without Her._

Her eyes were searching him. Wide. Concerned. He stared, an empty glass as he crammed it all away and out of sight. Link’s hand drifted up as a smile grew on his face.

“It's nothing,” he assured her, fingers trailing across her face and drawing her back to his chest. “I was talking to myself.”

Once again, that sword already knew what was running through his head. There was a plan brewing.

_Master, you must also-_

Link ignored the fly on his shoulder. His mind was already made up. It was the result of pride, impulse, and what he believed to be basic decency. Plenty of people would tell him it was ignorant and foolish, but he simply didn’t care.

Zelda would run. But he would not.

He had no intention of sacrificing anyone but himself.


	23. An East Wind

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. Hoo boy, this chapter spent the whole time kicking and screaming while I tried to write it. Here's hoping the quality didn't dip because I had to wrestle with it so much  
> 2\. So, I should probably give everybody a bit of a violence warning. We're entering the calamity now, and the M rating of this fic is going to show itself in more ways- _especially_ in these final 3 chapters.  
> 3\. Enjoy!

Link breached the surface of the water, a hand grasping at the stone just beneath Hylia’s statue. It poured off of him, breathing labored as he watched the cuts and burns along his arms stitching themselves back together. The sensation stung. Searing, as if the spring was cauterizing those wounds rather than healing them.

Hair clung to his face. Water slithered down his limbs, his abdomen, drawing his attention to his own reflection there on the rippling surface: bruised in more ways than one. It was cast away by a hand. He didn’t want to look at it.

Fingers slid off sandstone as Link straightened. Green mist floated past. Humid. The air smelled of damp soil and decaying foliage. He breathed it in; it was better than charred flesh or the rancid scent of dry blood smeared across slate.

Small as it was, the spring returned some vitality to him. That and one green elixir gave him what energy he needed to crawl out of the water.

Gloves materialized on his arms after one tap against his Slate. Boots thudded against stone as he stomped his way toward the shrine hiding at the back of the Spring of Courage.

“Right,” he breathed, eager and weary, “let’s get this _over with.”_

The final shrine: hidden away deep within Faron province.

Doors opened, Link stalked into a belly of slate, and he descended with a grin as devilish as a Wizzrobe’s. Hours later, another door was opened by the heel of his boot. Robbie jumped into a pose upon the thing swinging against its hinges: hands raised in a panic.

Link smirked and waltzed in, saluting the old man. “Good mornin’, cuz.”

“Far from it! It’s one A.M!” he snapped. The two of them flinched when Jerrin shouted down from the upper level to be quiet. It appeared the woman was trying to sleep herself.

“Yeah, it’s one,” he recovered, counting rupees in front of Cherry. “It’s mornin’.”

He wouldn’t debate that further. “Where in Hylia’s name have you been for two months?”

“You mean Zelda’s?”

_“What?”_

A stupid joke. Link waved it off as he dumped his rupees into that greedy machine. “Shrines. Trials. What else would I be doing?”

“Giving me the worst neighbors I’ve had in fifty years, for one.” An eyebrow was raised. Robbie didn’t hesitate to grouch further, “Those folks moving in down the hill building all those hideous houses. Their construction is causing a _racket._ It echoes over the whole valley!”

“Rich coming from one of Purah’s lackeys.”

There was an indignant scoff, some hopping, and a finger being jabbed in his direction. “First of all, we are _research_ partners! Second-”

His ranting was rendered inaudible when Cherry spat out bladesaws onto the floor. Goggles blinked at him, watching with bewilderment as Link bent down to store them all in his Slate.

“...What’s with that look?” he asked, still squatting.

“Did you just purchase seven bladesaws?”

“They’re my _favorite!”_ he defended.

Robbie crossed his arms, scoffing, “And what are you planning to use them on?”

“Don’t know yet. Zelda told me to go to the Plateau a while back... It’s my last chore, apparently,” he supplied, opening the door. Chilly air rushed in. 

_“...Link,”_ the old man’s tone was knowing to the point that it stopped him in his tracks. An expectant stare. A tentative sigh and then, “shouldn’t you rest?”

“Rest?” he echoed as if the word itself was foreign. Another grin slithered onto his face as he gibed, “When I’m dead, maybe.”

Goggles lifted, revealing a knit brow and sharp glare that hardly complimented Link’s playful tone. “You already look like a walking corpse.”

Although he wasn’t sure if it was a joke, he laughed anyway. He knew the sound was hollow despite his best efforts.

“A stable girl said that to me one time. It hurts, you know.”

The old man sighed for a second time and discarded the subject, snapping his goggles back into place. He’d given up awfully easily; though to be fair, it was far from his first attempt. Link’s propensity towards reckless abandon was wholly incapable of being chased off by exhaustion or halfhearted, muttered disapprovals. He thought, perhaps, the misery clouding his better senses would have to be chased away first.

 _Hell would freeze over first,_ he thought ruefully.

Maybe he would humor them all in their ardent requests for sensibility one day, he mused. But never during the night. Not this night.

His breath fogged in the cold air. Link couldn’t tell if it would be kind of him to say his next words, yet he did anyway- forethought eluding him more than usual as of late. 

“About Cherese-”

Robbie stopped breathing. Lips parted.

“-it was quick.”

Silence passed, his goggles unblinking. The Sheikah didn’t seem to know where to put his hands. One on his mouth- then both on his hips. Shifting feet. Eventually, he gathered enough of himself to say, “That’s a… relief.”

Link always believed that was a pointless response. There was no relief to be found in death, was there? Nor the knowledge of its nature. But, relief wasn’t always the goal in that pursuit, was it?

The source of his information must have occurred to Robbie, because his face lifted with a somewhat fearful question:

“You remembered, then?”

A little and too much at the same time.

He glanced away. It was confirmation enough. The man opened his mouth to speak further- to probe at whatever was lurking behind Link’s own false passivity; but it was cut off with the shake of his head and a shutting door.

He had shut it all away in the same manner. In the past, he’d always taken time to process- to loiter in Impa’s house or spend days ruminating over it: picking apart his memories. This time it seemed his conscious mind deemed it best to leave that mess festering somewhere in the back of his skull.

Like a pool of malice.

Touch it and it will spread.

Someday he would dare, but never during the night. Not this night.

Don’t dwell, don’t linger, don’t let the door crack itself open. He was too close to the end to let painful memories bog him down.

He was certain if he stopped for a second, humored the ghosts at his heels for the barest moment, he’d crumble. What was it he’d thought about Mipha all those years ago? A crumbling tower feigning stability? 

What was it Zelda had said about Mipha in that forest? That she was the first to-

His pace quickened as he fled Robbie’s lab, growing in speed until he was certain the shadows at his back couldn’t keep up.

Morning light shone behind him when he stood at the entrance to the Shrine of Resurrection. One foot after the other. Careful, as if there was another slumbering body he was afraid of waking. 

Ridiculous as he knew his caution was, it did remind him there really was something more hidden away beneath the Plateau. Symin spoke of it in detail- and maybe that was what Zelda was leading him to. Luring him to.

(Link always held his breath when peering into that bed of slate and always released it when he found it to be empty. He could never understand the reason why.)

Peering through that misty room, his gaze settled on the pedestal lying in wait over his shoulder. The last of his trials was at his fingertips. However, he had difficulty reaching out. His limbs ached. They felt weak- heavier than they should. It'd only been eight days since Lanayru: springs could only do so much, soothe so much. Like Mipha’s touch, those waters gave nothing of their own.

One more, Zelda had whispered when he last thought of giving up.

One more trial. One more bruise, scrape, day without rest.

Just one more couldn’t hurt, could it?

“One more,” he whispered to himself, fervent, and relinquished his senses to the flash of blue to follow. 

  


* * *

  


Shards of stained glass, that’s what it all felt like.

The events in which he could recall of those hellish forty-three hours were vivid in detail. The rush and adrenaline created plenty of holes, however. Whatever lacked importance was thrown away by his conscious mind, resulting in there being gaps between memories which bore no real consequence. 

Thus, those forty-three hours felt more like five, ten, or fifteen. No more than twenty.

Regardless, while there were plenty of things Link was insistent upon letting lie, there were also plenty of elements that were safe to marvel at. One in particular was that, contrary to what many in Hyrule seemed to believe, things had gone well in the beginning.

Rhoam’s decade-long descent into paranoia paid off, after all. In a sense, Zelda’s failure served to ensure that the entirety of Hyrule was well prepared for disaster: more so than it'd ever been in its long history. Every year the voices of the dead continued to elude her, Rhoam would instill one hundred new soldiers. One hundred new plans.

Her failure terrified him. Utterly and completely.

Link knew this better than most after spending months planning it all out with his captain. Early on in his apprenticeship, Rhoam had stormed in with a candelabrum in hand, wild-eyed and sussurant. The king had pointed a finger unusually absent of jewels: ordering they draw up a plan for the Guardians to malfunction.

The result of a nightmare he’d had that night, he said, something to heed- as the Calamity itself would be just as unpredictable and cunning.

He’d thought it was rather extreme; yet it was laughably ironic that the one plan they deemed the least likely to be put into motion was the one they would have to rely on.

As a result, every soldier within Hyrule was expected to memorize every evacuation route. Even if the chain of command were to fall apart, they all knew where to usher civilians. Every captain trained in battling Guardians. Every outpost equipped with messenger birds. The largest forts even possessed communication systems designed by Purah and that narrow circle of genius Sheikah under the king’s thumb.

Therefore, Zelda’s demand that she contribute to it all seemed more than unnecessary to those standing at the base of Mount Lanayru.

It was all shaking heads and uneasy looks that were exchanged between them. Urbosa took a step forward: her lips already forming the beginning of a protest, but Link spoke before her.

“I’ll be with her.”

Two heads snapped in his direction: one happy, the other shocked.

“You plan to take her into the _castle_ with you? Toward the _Calamity?”_

Zelda raised her voice, just as insistent as before, “I may not be able to battle it, but I know very well how to use Guardians! I can assist in our defenses better than any of our current Sheikah operators!”

Urbosa put a hand to her forehead, biting back curses with grit teeth. “They will be fine without-”

“We don’t have _time_ to argue,” Revali cut in. His words were curt yet urgent. Logical. “I think the idea is as ridiculous as you- but the longer we stand here the more damage that thing does! It’s already _over_ the castle, they need our Beasts if they’re going to fend it off.”

As if to prove his point, the ground quaked again. A roar sounded- lightning snapping. Whatever was circling Hyrule’s capital was spreading. Fast.

“You all agreed to leave her to me,” Link's words directed their attention back to him.

He’d protect her, he said. She won’t be put in that monster’s path. Heads nodded- though it was probably more thanks to the red bleeding across the sky than his argument that they agreed. Urbosa gave him a foul look, but uttered no further complaints.

Little did she know he had every intent to side with her upon reaching Kakariko.

“This is our moment. _Don’t,_ any of you mess it up.” Revali stepped away, throwing out his wings as he looked back at them. “I’ll be waiting for your signal, _princess.”_

Wind funneled, and that Rito was gone: his form indistinguishable from the dark clouds passing overhead. Daruk would follow his example.

“He’s right, this is our moment! Let’s send that thing crying back where it came from!” he saluted the rest of them and tore off: nothing but dirt and dust in his wake. “Stay safe out there, you guys!”

The dirt hadn’t even settled before they began their mad dash across the Promenade.

He remembered the blankets drifting along. The sound of their feet rapping against cobblestone and chantry folk skittering into their burrows. Those brave enough to stay in the open knelt in the squares chanting prayers to Hylia. Zelda would eye them as they ran, the look on her face indecipherable. Hands were clasped to her chest, fingers rubbing at the cuts still visible on her palms.

Link pulled her along, encouraging both of them to outrun the shadows at their backs even a century ago.

They reached the crossroads in a matter of two hours in their haste: Mipha’s back to the Northern pass, fear visible despite the confident set of her shoulders.

“I will arrive at my Beast before anyone else,” she said to them, “I beg you, do not hesitate to call for help should any of you need it.”

“You, too, Mipha,” Zelda replied between labored breaths.

Link reached out, a hand on the Zora girl’s shoulder. “Promise me you won’t hesitate.”

A smile, a hand over his. There was a sharp nod- the last time he’d ever hear the chime of her jewelry. “I promise.”

She exchanged a farewell with Urbosa before they all split off again, dashing through the forest.

It was well into the night, yet twilight would not leave.

The sky should have been black now; but the land itself was still bathed in color. Something like violet and crimson cast rays of light as intense as a setting sun through cracks of tree canopies and jagged mountaintops. Birds flocked from their perches: moving South, East, or North. Anywhere that wasn’t Westward. Deer, foxes- fauna of all kinds fleeing or frozen in the thick shadows.

Green eyes would stare, piercing and intrusive. It was deja vu: Link was suddenly reminded of his nightmares.

Zelda ran with her ears covered. Her teeth were ground together, pained. It seemed the roars echoing over the region were more deafening to her than anyone else.

Below, Kakariko was a mess of activity. The High Priestess was outside of her house, shouting orders at the rank and file of men and women at the base of her dwelling. Their arrival prompted there to be a brief wave of bowing heads.

One Sheikah in particular didn’t, however. Impa stood amidst the crowd: the woman’s tall frame only visible as they’d all fallen to their knees. She twisted to face them, braid swinging. Her owlish eyes were as red as a Guardian’s in that unearthly light.

“Impa!” Zelda was stumbling through the crowd, tripping over her own feet. Hands were on the princess’ shoulders when she came close enough.

Relief washed over Impa’s face as she bent to her eye level. “Your Highness, thank the Goddess you’re here. Tell me, what were the results of your pilgrimage?”

Link couldn’t see Zelda’s face- though he had no doubt shame was there when she shook her head. Impa couldn’t hide the disappointment that flooded through her own features; but she recovered easily- her attention darting between him and Urbosa.

“You must go, we will keep Her Highness safe within our-”

“I can’t,” Zelda stepped back, refusing to let any decisions be made for her. “I’m going to the castle. I can help operate our Guardians-”

Impa’s objection was harsh enough to make the girl flinch.

 _“No!_ You will not go anywhere _near_ those things! They’ve completely turned on us!”

“The- how?”

“The Calamity did something to them,” the woman said, arms lifting and falling with incredulity. “We have yet to find out how to fix it.”

Feathers scattered. Link turned his attention to the array of messenger birds fluttering into view. He recognized colored bands from Fort Mabe, the Exchange, and Kolomo. Calls for reinforcements most likely- something which was confirmed by a troop of Sheikah gathering weapons the moment a missive from Kolomo flew in.

Just as observant as he was, Urbosa took a step forward to interrupt Zelda’s protests, “I will pass Kolomo on my way to Naboris. Give me what soldiers you can spare and I will aid the evacuation.”

“Thank you, Lady Urbosa-”

They launched into an intense discussion. Link would comb through the reports sent by messenger birds, interrogating the men in charge. Lanterns floated; he could already see travelers flooding into Kakariko for safety. They could hardly keep up- too many birds and people were arriving. 

Reports conveyed that soldiers had been aware of the potential for their Guardians to malfunction. Casualties had been limited.

They could hold out.

He tossed away the paper he’d been reading, something stony growing in him as he cued back into the argument behind him. It spread over his skin, making it thicker. Less likely to succumb to sentiment or emotion. 

“What?” Zelda was demanding at Impa, “Do you truly expect me to sit in a _house_ while my kingdom is burning? Besides, Link has agreed to accompany me-”

“I don’t care _what_ he’s agreed to-”

There was hardly a pause in their bickering.

Urbosa stared at him through the crowd, a warning in her eyes. Their princess wouldn’t go anywhere near that city if she could help it. And, if there was the slightest chance he would try to disagree, he knew that woman wouldn’t hesitate to draw a sword on him.

It was a useless threat. There would be no need.

Link nodded before he called out, “Zelda.”

She twisted to look at him, her brow furrowed at his tone.

“...Get in the house.”

Understanding washed over her.

“No,” she objected, “I can’t sit here and do nothing.”

“I don’t care,” he started to walk toward her.

The girl backed away only to bump into Urbosa. 

“Listen to him,” she insisted. Something between indignance and horror contorted Zelda’s features.

Like the Yiga cornering her, her attention darted between the two of them. Impa was watching with crossed arms, the look in her eyes stern. Ruth was there, too, mashing her lips together.

“You said you’d take me,” the princess tried once again, her tone strained. His expression didn’t change. Hurt welled up the moment Zelda put it all together- she knew there was no leverage to be found in those words of his. “You _lied?”_

_‘To make me complacent?’_

Link wouldn’t answer. That question may as well have been rhetorical. He’d made his decision before they even descended Mount Lanayru. Revali knew it just as well. They didn’t have time to stand there and argue with a princess losing her head over her own perceived ineptitude.

That’s what all this was. He didn’t blame her for that desire nor her failure. A decade spent stifled and diminished- how was she supposed to find her own power when she so thoroughly believed she possessed none to begin with?

Link knew his actions would only bolster that insecurity. It may even make her hate him despite all her claims that it was impossible.

Disgusted as it made him feel, the reality was that what she could do wasn’t enough to compensate for the one integral thing she was lacking. Zelda knew this; yet the remaining debris of her pride wouldn’t allow her to back down. 

The girl bristled. If she couldn’t appeal to sentiment, she would use logic.

“I can turn them off!”

Impa balked at that. _“What?”_

“Do you not remember? There is a control unit within the castle-”

_“Hylia, no-”_

“-that can forcefully shut our technology down! Very few people can use it but _I_ can! I helped _design_ it, Impa!”

Urbosa interjected at that, exasperated, “You say that as if the operators in the castle are already dead-”

“Are we supposed to be _optimistic_ in this situation?” Zelda countered.

“It is optimistic to assume you won’t be dead by the time you reach the gates!” Urbosa insisted.

“I know the blindspot of every Sentry in that castle, Urbosa.” She suddenly jabbed a finger at Link. “And even if I didn’t, don’t _pretend_ he doesn’t have the skill to escort me to the top of the sanctum.” 

Her voice rose before the woman could argue further, swinging an arm out as she declared:

“My mother fought on the front lines the moment she turned seventeen! A princess of Hyrule sitting idle during an invasion is _disgraceful!”_

“Your _mother_ was a trained-”

Link’s head was starting to hurt, frustration spiking inside him. If there was anything that confirmed her identity as a Goddess, it was her temper and sheer stubbornness.

 _“Zelda!”_ he snapped, his voice nothing but sharp, jagged edges. When silence fell and she gaped at him, he hissed, “Quit being _selfish.”_

“And you _aren’t?_ ” she bit back, teeth bared.

The accusation there was clear. That question may as well have been rhetorical, too. It was a given he would be desperate to keep her from harm, wasn’t it?

Throwing that fact in his face would do nothing to help her.

He merely glared on, providing a blunt, flat answer, “I am, but I’m the one here with logic on my side. That thing can’t be killed.” He locked her arm in his grip- hardly noticing when she tried to wrest it away. “I’ll find an operator on the road. If you want to help, stay here and try to figure out how to seal it away while we hold it off.”

“You know I can’t do that,” she whispered, hair in her face. There was a fevered look in her eye. It was obvious to him Zelda had lost all hope in the endeavor.

It hurt.

“I’m sorry, Zelda. You don’t have a choice.” Link addressed Impa, “Take her.”

The woman stepped forward to reach out. Zelda’s head shook rapidly, hair spilling over her shoulders- and the moment her wrist was taken she yanked it away, screaming louder than she should be able to.

_“No!”_

Windows shattered and earth rumbled beneath their feet. Link staggered backwards, covering his ears. The mass of men and women around them did the same: flinching away from both glass and that grating noise.

The girl’s hands were at her chest, eyes flittering back and forth- chest heaving. This time, she was aware of what she’d done.

Surprisingly, it was the High Priestess who was the first to speak after that abnormal outburst.

“You will do as she requests, servant.”

Link sent a venomous glare towards that old woman, hands lowering. She was unperturbed: not even an eyebrow raised at that dirty look of his. Her tone was of sand and rough stone. Authoritarian. Finality there.

“The Goddess’ will is extended through her proxy; and through her proxy fate itself.”

It sounded like she was reciting some old testament Link never got around to reading. It made him sneer at her- was she using something as unreliable as _that_ as an excuse? It became apparent he wasn’t the only one who thought it was absurd.

“You can’t be serious,” Urbosa’s voice was a blend of bafflement and brewing rage.

“Oh,” the woman lifted her chin, staring down even at that Gerudo, “I am.”

“Old _bat,”_ she snarled. Nails dug into her crossed arms. At that moment, Urbosa looked more likely to be related to Impa than Purah.

Zelda’s hands fell to her sides, a wonderstruck breath escaping her. The High Priestess dipped her head, that hat obscuring her face as she assured them of her decision, “We shall follow our princess.”

The Sheikah made it clear where their loyalties would lie. All present followed their priestess’ example: genuflecting a second time. The princess looked over the crowd around her, in awe of their fidelity towards a teenage girl.

Her features settled into something steely. Zelda moved away from them, backing toward her newly acquired platoon of Sheikah. Those men and women rose. A wall of red and white and black behind her. Eyes narrowed, hands fisted at her sides.

“I will not sit here and _hide.”_ Her gaze slid over to Link- the target for her next furious statement, _“Never_ again.”

Her mother, her powers. It was all about more than one failure, wasn’t it?

Impa swallowed, Urbosa muttered vehement curses, and he ran his hands over his face.

If Kakariko wouldn’t contain Zelda in all her reckless behavior, they had no choice but to escort her all the way to that burning capital. He tried to focus on a silver lining to contain his frustration: better him than a bunch of Sheikah whose skill he wasn’t familiar with.

And so, they cut their losses.

It was all a blur after that argument. Link remembered snatching up his oft-abandoned shield from their things. Then Impa demanding to follow them- Urbosa’s fingers poised without subtlety, the woman tempted to blast that old priestess and her house into nothing.

Horses would be waiting for them at the bottom of Sahashra Slope, provided by the Riverside and Wetlands Stables. Thirty Sheikah joined them: twenty others to be dispersed along the road to Naboris by Urbosa herself.

Despite their arguing, the woman had gathered Zelda into a crushing hug before splitting off, whispering prayers in her ear. Pleas to remain safe, to not do anything foolish enough that Link could not protect her from. The princess would nod her head, making more promises than she could keep.

Grass and weeds were torn away by hooves. The wind in his ears muted the sound of his horse’s galloping against dirt. He glanced over his shoulder, eyes sweeping across the echelon of soldiers following after him.

The princess stood out at their center as she rode with Impa: white amidst a cluster of black. 

It was as they rode high on a hill along Hylia River that Link understood why the forts were drawing troops even from Kakariko. Whatever monsters had been lurking in Hyrule’s forests and caves all seemed to have congregated within Central Hyrule itself. Toward forts, paths, and buildings of any kind- without aim other than to spread destruction and violence.

Zelda sat on her heels, hands on Impa’s shoulders as she gazed over the chaos. Hair off her back. Distress was there; yet she hardly seemed to be doubting her choice that night.

Their mounts sped by caravans and civilians sprinting along the roads. 

(They were all merchants or villagers living in open areas. He suspected those in proper towns had yet to be called for evacuation. They were already well guarded- and trying to move that many people along the roads whilst keeping them safe would prove too difficult until more calvalries arrived from the citadels.)

Banners flapped high above: lanterns marking the guarded paths. Though, those lights were hardly needed thanks to the red glow emanating from above Hyrule Castle. Half the fields were already ablaze as well: set fire by either monsters or the occasional stray Guardian.

They would aid civilians where needed. But, their forces were well trained despite all of Revali’s complaints- several millennia battling monsters left it fair to assume Hyrule’s forces knew a thing or two of proper defense.

Thus, it took until Rebonae Bridge for them to reach the first corrupted machinery.

Screams sounded from a caravan trapped beneath the sights of two Stalkers. Trees snapped as they ran: just barely avoiding being trampled thanks to the thick forestry they fled into.

Despite the separation from one side of the Sheikah to the next, their soldiers still knew how to maneuver around those machines. Zelda stood on her heels behind Impa again, shouting over the wind just where to target.

Link quickly discovered his sword made him a target even to Guardians. One was cornered by Sheikah- the other abandoning its prey to chase after him. Legs tangled together, blurred as it followed after him like a spider: crawling over boulders and fallen logs.

Hooves beat across planks of wood only for his horse to rear up, legs kicking. Water sprayed after his pursuer skidded into the river, blasting the bridge to pieces. His hands tugged on his mount’s reins. It was when the animal righted itself that Link leapt onto the saddle. Metal rang as he drew his weapon, ready to jump directly toward that Guardian and stab it the same way he had a thousand Hinoxs’ eyes.

He wouldn’t have to, though. 

Someone tackled the Guardian’s head. Pale robes. A sword as bright as his own cut through slate and sliced its eye in half as if it were little more than paper.

Ruins of that bridge were still tumbling into water alongside the machine when its exterminator flipped back onto the planks. The man landed deftly in front of him, and, predictably, struck a pose the second that Guardian exploded. The force of it sent wind rushing, lifting his robes and blowing back Link’s hair.

“Good evening, cousin!” 

_Good_ evening? Link considered debating the validity of that greeting of his, but was far too distracted by all his showy movements. A hand ran through Robbie’s hair, shaking water away from his face.

His ancient blade vanished as he clipped the device at his belt. Brown eyes were visible, looking pleased. The man’s attention flicked to their fellow Sheikah dispatching the last Guardian without much effort.

“I’m happy to see you have all made it this far safely…” When Zelda clambered off Impa’s horse toward a fallen machine, he seemed a little less pleased.

Zelda began flinging pieces of the upturned Guardian behind her, digging like a mole for something.

“She broke half of Kakariko’s windows throwing a _tantrum,”_ Link griped as he dismounted from his horse. Robbie chuckled before the two of them sprinted off toward their group, blissfully unaware of just how literal that statement of his was.

Civilians were stumbling back to the road. Zelda’s head jerked up as she shoved a small golden core into Impa’s hands and ran off to help their Sheikah doctors look over the injured.

“The horses can’t go much farther,” Impa informed them as they came closer. One glance at the animals told him she was correct. Hours of riding left several already laying against the cool earth, their breathing as ragged as the men and women currently collapsed at the feet of their medical team.

It was at that point he caught sight of Zelda huddled on the side of the road again, fingers rapidly taking apart her newly acquired core. Odd pointed instruments were in her hands, picking at it. Eyes darted, lit up by the vivid yellow of that device. She lifted it to the sky to peer at it as if it were a gem in the sunlight.

“Are you going to the castle?” he asked, finally peeling his eyes away from the girl.

“Yes,” he put his hands on his hips to match Link. “Ms. Director has returned to the Plateau to take a crack at our Guardian problem. I decided it was best to put my weapons to use for His Majesty. I assume you’re on your way there, as well?”

“Zelda’s going to shut off the Guardians.”

 _”Ah._ That explains plenty, then. It’s… awfully strange no one has flipped that switch yet.”

“...You wouldn’t happen to be able to do it instead, would you?”

“Nope. I was busy installing the Divine Beasts’ missiles when Ms. Director built it… communications have always been more her side of things.”

Link clucked his tongue. _“Dammit.”_

Returning to Robbie’s previous statement, he shrugged, commenting that the control’s lack of an operator likely had to do with whatever monster had been taking laps around Hyrule Castle. Admittedly, he’d never seen what Revali had. Whatever it was seemed to have disappeared.

“...I wouldn’t be surprised,” his cousin agreed.

Link raised his face to the East. After seven hours of riding, it was growing brighter and casting away the darkness above. While the quakes hadn’t stopped, that unearthly red glow had certainly diminished: no longer distinguishable from the flames in the distance.

Monsters had grown fewer as well.

Perhaps the sun chased away more than just the night? Or was it something else? It all felt wrong to him; but there was nothing he could do with that suspicion besides continue to be cautious.

Four of their Sheikah escorts stayed behind to assist the merchants when they resumed traveling- leaving their horses behind. And while their trip would lengthen without their mounts, stamina elixirs gave them the ability to maintain a steady pace.

Skywatchers danced above them in Mabe Prairie. Robbie’s foot was in Link’s hand as he tossed the man into the air- practically tackling those machines out of the sky. They fell one by one: a line of wreckage as they gradually made their way toward Castle Town’s looming walls.

Monsters pitched boulders at the gates. Soldiers stood atop the walls, cannons raining on the creatures. Horns blared when their party was spotted cutting their way through the army of Bokoblins and Moblins in their path; and the rows of men above ceased fire.

They formed a wedge: Zelda nestled with Impa in the center as they progressed through those hordes. The girl hadn’t a single doubt they would keep her protected judging by the way her nose remained stuck in her work even as Bokoblins yelled in her ear.

Gates rumbled open: metal scraping and chains rattling. Men bearing tall shields flooded through, slamming them against the dirt. It ensured none of the monsters would follow after when they slipped through the gates and stumbled onto cobblestone.

“Your Highness!” several men greeted their exhausted princess.

“Thank you for allowing us to pass,” she breathed, finally glancing up from her work.

Impa piped up, “We have a Sheikah company as requested-”

Link glanced to the walls alongside Robbie. The few Sentries atop them sat as husks of smoke and flickering electricity. It seemed they’d been dispatched by Castle Town’s knights the moment they turned.

Streets were empty. Townsfolk were no doubt already ushered away to the churches: sanctuaries of stone that couldn’t be burned or easily broken into.

They were doing well, he thought. Even without Guardians, monsters hadn’t so much as dented the walls.

Though, the palace itself was another story.

“How’s the castle?” Link questioned the soldiers’ red-plumbed captain. Towers of smoke drifted from several ends of the massive structure. There were the unmistakable flashes of Guardians firing into the open air.

The man hesitated between the sound of lasers in the distance, “All of the moving Guardians are being dispatched by the imperial men... Last we _heard,_ at least. We lost communication ten hours ago. But from the look of it, they’re at a stalemate with the Sentries. Unfortunately, we haven’t been able to spare soldiers to back them up.”

He gestured to the line of eerily quiet Sheikah standing behind Impa. “Hence our request for you all,” the man paused, stroking his beard as he eyed Link. “But now that Hylia’s Champion is here, it may be easy work climbing the roads.”

“There’s no blindspots along the road,” Zelda cut in, yellow layers swiveling between her fingertips. “Not unless Link can scale one hundred foot cliffs without getting hit.”

He scratched the back of his head. “I mean, probably-”

Suddenly, pale light flashed from her device- and a giggle escaped her. Mad. Deranged enough to cast away whatever was about to come out of his mouth. She stole away her Slate from Impa’s waist. They all shifted, watching on as the girl ducked into a tower only to climb a ladder and emerge at the top of Castle Town’s walls.

“Hylia, what…?” Impa muttered as her fellow Sheikah stared over her shoulder.

Soldiers dodged out of the way, baffled as their princess skittered past canons and harpoons- straight toward a broken Sentry.

“Your Highness!” Impa made a rather late objection. “I’m sure you know It is _dangerous_ up there!”

Instead of Zelda’s head poking back over the railing, it was flinging parts. 

“Is she _repairing_ it?” Robbie sounded adrift. 

_“Your Highness!”_ the woman yapped, angry. Her head twisted to Link when Zelda didn’t respond. “Say something, will you? She listens to you better-”

A caustic laugh escaped him. “Funny you think that.”

“Go up there and _get her down!”_

Link scaled the wall without need of a ladder before pushing through a line of confused men. Zelda’s legs were only visible underneath that machine. The moment he opened his mouth to speak- the princess finally dragged herself out.

A wrench was between her teeth; and she yanked it out as she stood to hold his perplexed stare. There was a look in her eye as wild as her father’s when he succumbed to his fear that the Guardians would turn.

“What are you doing?” he put his hands on his hips.

“...Now, please don’t be scared,” she lifted her Slate, informing, “but I’m going to turn it on.”

_“What?”_

Several of the men backed away right after that. They were less than keen on that idea. Impa was complaining, demanding they hurry up.

“Trust me, Link,” Zelda implored, the device pressed against her chest. Nervous. Frazzled yet alert. The girl was smart. Too smart, wasn’t she? 

Link sucked in a breath and backed away, nodding despite Impa’s rampant protests.

A toothy grin spread across her face as she tapped at the Slate. The Guardian’s head swiveled. Blue gleamed. At the same time, Zelda shouted a warning to the surrounding guards.

_“Stand clear!”_

A second later she twisted on her heel, pointed her Slate to the sea of monsters below, and a red beam flickered to life. Wind rushed as light flashed. Sound pealed. Dirty sprayed as monsters were sent cascading into the air- a hole ripping straight through a Moblin. By the time the boulder it was holding slammed into the earth, Zelda’s Guardian was charging its next round.

Her hair thrashed around her shoulders as it continued its rapid firing: the engine a steady thrum and its sights not once settling on a single person. 

She’d _fixed_ it.

An old conversation sprung to mind.

_‘I think I’ve managed to build it in a way that it’s incapable of firing at a person. See? There’s no spotlight even though it's in kill mode.’_

_‘...He doesn’t approve?’_

_‘No. He thinks it’s a waste of my time.’_

The reality made Link suck in a breath.

How many graves had Rhoam dug with his own two hands? Tens of thousands trampled and burned alive because he thought it was a waste of Zelda’s time? A century later, he would laugh raucously into the biting chill of Winter air.

Death was too much of a mercy for that mypoic king. While Link didn’t hate the man, he was certainly a believer in due punishments.

The princess paced toward him, staring up with some kind of excitement there in her expression.

“Are you thinking what I’m thinking?” she murmured- an impish gin still splitting apart her face.

It was infectious. Link smiled with a mix of surging regret and pride for the stubborn girl before him. He leaned in a fraction, the two of them snapping their fingers and stating at once:

_“The old mines.”_

  


* * *

  


It was a switch that had been flipped and stuck in place, Zelda theorized. Whether it was the Calamity or a widespread malfunction, the Guardians had been shifted into kill-mode. Her designs simply eliminated the programming that allowed them to do that entirely.

Twenty Guardians she had lying in wait beneath Hyrule Castle. Twenty powerful weapons at their disposal.

Thus, the town guard would lend them several rafts to cross the moat. Zelda navigated them across those rushing waters and through gaps in the Sentries’ vision. The river’s surface was blinding: rose-gold flickering along the rough waves as the Eastern sun drifted higher.

She knelt next to him, both of their sights trained on the approaching shoreline.

Exhaustion was tugging at his senses; yet he was sure it had a stronger effect on the people around him than himself. Despite the princess’ determined glare, he could see the darkening circles around her eyes. As with all things, elixirs could only do so much. Adrenaline could only carry one for so far.

Heat was rising against his back. The Sword was growing restless, reminding him that, despite the unusual calm blanketing Hyrule Castle, a monster was still prowling its halls.

His plan was simple: brute force. Containment. Damage control. It was all he knew how to do; and it was all he could do until they found another solution, wasn’t it?

Link watched the princess stumble onto shore, sand beneath her heels. He looked back at her, an arm outstretched to help her navigate the uneven surface. She took his hand with one flick of her eyes; and he could see no resentment in that brief second.

They’d argued in Kakariko- yet that girl still wouldn’t be angry with him. Maybe she would have done the same thing in his shoes. Though, the way her fingers threaded in his told him that she might have been there partially because she worried about him just as much as he did her.

He couldn’t resent her for that, either: putting herself in harm’s way for such a foolish reason. Sometimes, they were too alike for their own good.

Specks of dark floated. Violet snow falling in reverse. The smell of char and the atmosphere’s ruddy hue grew more saturated the higher they climbed up Hyrule Castle’s ramps.

Robbie fired ancient arrows at any Sentries that spotted them from above as Impa and the other Sheikah leapt at any they could reach. Several blows were deflected by Link’s own shield.

Soon enough, his gloved palm was running along damp walls. Cold along his skin. The scent of earth and crisp water. Luminous stones emanated from deeper within.

There they all were: the princess’ Guardians sitting docile and static amidst that hollow cavern.

With the pulse of blue, they lifted themselves off the ground- revolving around Zelda as if she had some sort of gravitational pull.

Her designs were smaller than the usual Skywatchers. As such, they would fit easily in halls, windows, or doorways. 

They took a ladder the two of them had set up months ago. It led to a passage which would bring them to the libraries- a convenient path he’d stumbled upon after exploring whilst she was busy rapping a hammer against slate. Needless to say, that shortcut made sneaking off to those mines significantly easier in the past.

Link and Robbie shoved open the stone door in their way before they all sprinted into the open, Zelda’s small platoon of machines and Sheikah following dutifully after. 

Screaming erupted.

Much to their surprise, they came face to face with a group of fifteen scientists all crying out in terror at their sudden appearance. They spread out like a flock of cuckoos: ducking behind bookshelves or diving beneath tables. Papers scattered.

They stood dumbly, Link’s sword drawn and Zelda’s mini Guardians buzzing around her.

“...Um, h-hello?” the princess managed.

An array of white buns poked out from their hiding holes. There was a chorus of relieved mumblings as they all shuffled from behind their rickety bookshelves.

“Goddesses, it is a _blessing,_ to see you all,” one of them wheezed.

A young woman shouldered her way through the gaggle of white-robed scientists. Link recognized her- one of the researchers he’d always seen skipping somewhere in the vicinity of Purah or Robbie in their camps.

Cherese: a woman of clear Tabanthan descent by her wild, cherry-red curls. Upon seeing familiar faces, the woman struck a stupid pose that reminded him all too much of his cousin. She opened her mouth to give some equally ridiculous greeting no doubt, but was swept off her feet by a hug from Robbie. She coughed rather ungracefully. Legs kicked.

 _“Hi, darling,”_ she squawked before being dumped on her feet.

The man babbled some thankful words to the Goddess. Cherese awkwardly ignored him as he walked circles, inspecting her for injuries. In-between, she addressed their group with one head bob at a time, “Your Highness. Lady Impa. Link.”

He was sure the other Sheikah would have greeted them if not for most being distracted by Zelda’s peculiar Guardians. Noses scrunched: the men and women squinting at them as if they were staring at the sun.

Impa put her hands on her hips. “I’m happy to see so many of you safe. Do you know where anyone else is?”

“Ah,” Cherese finally shooed Robbie away. “...To be honest, no. Everything went wild in the beginning; but by the time the sun set the intercoms broke and the upper levels had gone real quiet. We can’t even get to the main controls because- you know, lots of zapping.”

“What of the knights?”

There was a wave of shrugs among the group. “Um… not sure? Like I said, everything went crazy, some Guardians were destroyed. Then half the knights up and vanished when the king demanded backup. So…” there was one last flabbergasted shrug, “we just hung out here.”

There was a flying pig, she’d tack on at the last second.

 _‘Then poof, nothing,’_ was her eloquent description. 

She mimed as if it was a magic trick, fingers wiggling. It sounded ridiculous until there was a wave of agreement in the form of nodding heads.

Zelda cleared her throat and explained their plan. Sentries would be handled with her flying pets and the rest of them given room to evacuate before they ascended to the main controls.

“I’ll come with,” Cherese raised a hand. “We’ve got Divine Beasts to wrangle, don’t we?”

Robbie glared at her with a silent protest and raised goggles; but the woman merely flipped them back down.

Several more Sheikah stepped forward with the same insistence. They wouldn’t refuse help. The faster it was all done, the better.

The Sword claimed the Calamity couldn’t be killed; but he had a hard time imagining four lasers from the Divine Beasts couldn’t get close. At the very least, he doubted the monster would have an easy time recovering.

“Well then,” Zelda twirled her Slate in her hands. “Shall we get started?”

None objected. Thus, the calm of Hyrule Castle was quickly dispelled in the form of cascading rock and the rapid toll of charging Guardians.

Her Skywatchers were quick- too quick for Sentries to retaliate. They sprinted up the ramps: up stairs and into buildings. One by one crowds of servants, chantryfolk, and nobles were released from the confines of the castle. Stray knights joined their ranks, following their princess through the path she forged with heat and slate.

Slowly, Hyrule Castle was being besieged by its own princess.

Link took cover within ruins of the courtyard alongside Zelda, looking on as she targeted each and every piece of machinery she had spent half her life helping to build.

Doctors were digging through rubble, pulling out limp Hylians. Alive or dead, he didn’t know. Zelda would take in the sight and grimace. Teeth were grit- a strange kind of remorse there. Frustration. Shame, perhaps: for her hand in building Guardians which had turned so easily on the people she’d hoped they would protect.

She was sinking into the sands that were self-blame.

Once in their caves, she’d confessed she believed she hadn’t fought hard enough to convince her father. Better arguments should have been made. More proof. More pleas. 

Now, it was clear those beliefs of hers still held true. The girl’s features were twisting further and further: marred with too many different emotions to identify.

It was all unavoidable, though. He remembered kneeling behind Zelda listening to Rhoam deliver the results of one of her many proposals during those weeks before her pilgrimage. Even Purah of all people failed to replicate the girl’s results, he’d said. Her research was a fluke. With a dismissive wave of his hand, he’d chuckled that all she’d managed to build was a malfunctioning Guardian. That was all. 

His words to Riju would be further proved by those memories: Zelda’s abilities manifested in ways her father could never recognize. Altering Guardians’ cores to the point that even the Calamity couldn’t corrupt them- changing their very nature all with the probing of her fingertips. 

In an unexpected way, Rhoam was correct; her Guardians could never be replicated by anyone else.

It was a cacophony of if only’s overlapping one another. If only he’d allowed her to spend those years building her own machines. If only she’d realized her gifts sooner. If only the Calamity simply hadn’t come.

Could he convey that? he wondered as he studied the hurt evident in her face. Wind floated, carrying ash across cheeks smeared with grease and dirt and bitterness. She might’ve already known.

Link put a hand on her head, quieting the waters as best he could. Her mouth pressed into a line.

“You helped,” he mumbled. Green eyes squeezed shut. He couldn’t be sure if she believed him. 

Regardless, the last Sentry blocking the castle’s exits had been rendered an empty husk; and with that, the structure was cleared of all civilians.

He whistled loudly before their small army of knights and Sheikah turned to face him. An interrogation was carried out. Despite having nearly one hundred people in that courtyard, none seemed to know anything beyond what Cherese had told them.

Rhoam and his royal guardsmen had seemingly been spirited away right alongside the Calamity.

_“Boy!”_

A voice echoed over the ramparts. Link glanced up to see silhouettes of black, white, and red: imperial guardsmen.

“Arlo?” he responded as those men leapt from their perch.

Arlo, Cael, Gerald- nine other men he’d seen nearly every day growing up. Greetings were offered to Zelda and Impa. However, only strange looks were given to Robbie and his unnerving eyewear.

“You’ve been busy,” was the man’s astute observation. They took note of Zelda’s Guardians the same way the researchers had, reluctant to take their eyes off of them.

Link stuck his sword into the grass. “Where have you been?”

“Taking care of Sentries in the West wing and sneaking out civilians,” he supplied, shaking out a burned arm. Most of them sported similar injuries. “...Albeit slower than you, apparently.”

Zelda made an inquiry of her own, “Do you know where my father is? The Calamity?”

Looks were exchanged. Bemused ones. Arlo barked a harsh laugh.

“Goddess, I’d love to, Your Highness.” The man’s usual severity returned immediately after; and he blinked away some kind of fog in his head- no doubt left over from their long night, “Last we heard from His Majesty was when he demanded our unit focus on evacuation a solid… ten- _eleven_ hours ago? He took every other guard worth their salt up to the sanctum- Orwell and Landon, too. Haven’t heard or seen shit since.”

Rhoam and his gold-etched keepers had been near the barracks when the Calamity showed, the man specified.

“The Guardians turned probably an hour after it showed… took us most of the night to take care of the Stalkers and Skywatchers in the training grounds. Blasted things are worse than Sentires; everyone on the West side got-”

He paused, glancing to Zelda, and shut his mouth. Her empty expression did not encourage him to continue.

“Anyway,” Arlo cleared his throat. “If there’s somethin’ up there, they’ve done a great job at keeping it contained. I… really can’t imagine they’re dead. Otherwise we’d have a monster running around, wouldn’t we?”

Though, for all they knew, Rhoam could have left to the front lines without them looking. It hardly made sense; but it wasn’t as if anything else was making sense, either.

A contemplative silence fell among their huddle. They craned their necks to the castle’s apex. Spires puncturing a scarlet-tinged firmament- gilded wings and silk banners unmarred and without frays.

The epicenter of it all: utterly pristine.

It wasn’t right. Something churned in Link’s gut. The princess’ fingers drummed across her Slate.

“...There _is_ something here,” Zelda confirmed. Her tone was confident. Adamant despite how soft it was.

A finger tapped at his sword’s hilt. He was sure of the same. _“...Somewhere.”_

Impa’s thumb ran across the braid slung over her shoulder. Lips pursed. “Then... Robbie and I will scout ahead. We can’t take our princess and researchers without knowing what’s waiting, yes?”

“I wouldn’t object to that,” Robbie’s agreement gave way to their approval.

“Shouldn’t I be the one heading toward that thing first?” Link questioned, gesturing to his glowing weapon.

“Not as long as Her Highness is here,” the woman shot that idea down with finality. “She stays by you at all times.”

She was right. Restless as it would make him, the thought of allowing Zelda to leave his sights was less appealing. He nodded; and the two Sheikah took off: a flash of blue and white as they vanished over the top of a crumbling wall.

Something resounded in the distance as they waited that half hour. Storm clouds were tumbling over one another from the East: almost black in their color. Lightning flickered on the horizon; and a wall of rain blurred the landscape as it drew ever closer.

“Well, would you look at that?” Cherese jabbed a finger directly above them. 

The lasers of two Divine Beasts were now positioned toward the throne room. One from the Northeast- another from the West. Revali and Mipha. Daruk and Urbosa were sure to follow soon enough.

“You lot make good time,” one of the royal guardsmen scoffed, mirthful.

“Mostly Revali,” Link momentarily shared in his amusement. “Bird’s obsessed with being early.”

Suddenly, Impa’s head appeared over the same wall they’d leapt over.

“...It’s clear.”

“Clear?” Zelda repeated, frowning. “We haven’t cleared the Sentries uptop yet!”

“I know, Your Highness,” she replied. There was a mystified undercurrent in her voice. “The Guardians have already been shut down. We cannot get them to react.”

“They- did someone reach the main controls while we were down here?”

“That appears to be the case. Though, I would warn you we don’t know what awaits us in the sanctum... Some sort of poison is blocking any windows and entryways.”

They would have to break in, she claimed.

That was intriguing. Link sheathed his sword, prodding, “It was quiet?”

“As a sleeping _viper,”_ was Impa’s rather morbid affirmation.

With that, the woman turned on her heel and disappeared yet again.

Arlo glanced to Link, scratching at a balding head. “You take the lead, Captain.”

He didn’t waste any time before shouting over the crowd, _“We’re marching!”_

Knights filed into lines, an ensemble of metal scraping as they drew their weapons. Those of Cherese’s company brave enough to follow would hang at the tail end of it all.

However, Zelda remained tethered to Link: leading their procession right alongside him. Wind picked up as they trudged up steep flights of stairs. Cold. Grasping at her pale dress. She limped- blisters forming from leather sandals.

Fingers clung to his tunic, gripping him like the rising well of nervousness inside him. Rarely was he ever so anxious when approaching a battle. He had to put a hand over his sword arm; the blade was vibrating with enough energy to challenge his grip.

Sentinels of Slate came into view as they cleared the final set of stairs. Impa had been correct: the Sentries all around them were shut down. Motionless. Colorless. The princess kept her Guardians targeting them anyway.

The Sheikah woman and Robbie stood side by side, situated farther ahead the wide ramp leading to the sanctum. Its doors were shut tight behind them: concealing whatever lurked on the other side.

“...What is that?” Zelda griped, recoiling from a putrid smell.

As Impa had described, pulsing masses clung to the sanctum walls and seeped out windows or through cracks in the ornate doors. It was malice, the first of which Link would ever see.

Men with bows positioned themselves nearby the sleeping Guardians whilst those bearing spears and swords fanned out on either side of the throne room doors. Sheikah clung to archways overhead. Impa and Robbie stayed where they were, eyes glued to the entrance.

“Zelda,” Link instructed, “you should step back with the researchers.”

 _“No,”_ she whispered. Something in her tone told him he should listen.

Arlo drew his bow, nocking back a fire arrow pointed at the malice-infested doors. “On your order,” he said from Link’s right.

He sucked in a breath, opening his mouth to speak.

Wood snapped.

The doors flung open: oak splintering as something flew out from the depths of the throne room. Realizing what it was before it even landed, Link backpedaled and wrapped his arm around Zelda’s head, forcing a hand over her eyes.

Her father’s body had just tumbled across the ramp after all. 

Blood sprayed from the impact. Rhoam was a broken heap: bearing the stiff, crooked limbs of an aging corpse. It was clear the man had been dead long before they even arrived at the castle.

A crown spun, rattling as it settled just before Zelda’s blood-splattered toes.

Link could only imagine the Calamity had an even darker sense of humor than he did.

The knights nearby cursed, shouting in alarm. Their scientists erupted into frightened, unintelligible chatter. Some ran.

 _“Hold!”_ Link commanded alongside the more composed imperial guards.

“Link,” Zelda ground out, terror gripping her as she frantically struggled to remove his hand. “What is _happening?!”_

 _“Don’t,”_ he whispered. Something in his tone must have told her she should listen, too.

The girl’s trembling hand lowered, her breaths quick and shuddering.

They all stepped back the moment a figure came into view on the other side of the sanctum’s broken doors. Some kind of disfigured face peered out at them from the darkness. Orange eyes flickered in shadow. Its head twitched: cocking to the side almost curiously. 

Zelda had suddenly gone as still as the fauna in Kakariko’s forests: her breathing drawn out and steady. Thunder rumbled louder. The glowing ash around them grew brighter. It singed the ends of her dress.

“...It knows,” although still blinded by his hand, she rambled with a voice barely audible against the hum of encroaching rain, _“It knows who we are.”_

Link would have given her an unsettled look if not for his inability to unlock his gaze from the creature staring back. Whatever it was began to worm its way through the doors: stone cracking against the force of it. Limbs of slate contorted- squeezing through a space hardly meant for something of its size.

Shields were raised. Bows drawn.

When it emerged completely, the Sheikah and soldiers nearby fled farther away to avoid a swipe of its legs. The thing was a writhing mass of haphazard machinery. Too many things to keep focus on at once. Lasers here, sharp edges there- a devilish grin Link swore he saw in the mirror each day, and an undulating body that seemed eager to lose its own shape. Restless. Disturbing. Wrong. His hair stood on end as he raised an incandescent blade.

He went to give the order to attack, yet his voice died for the barest moment. Weapons were stuck along its body: all belonging to imperial guards. If he could see behind that monster, Link suspected there would be plenty more bodies besides Rhoam’s broken and mutilated in that throne room.

His father’s sword in particular was wedged in its skull. That bruised, purple, virulent substance oozed from the wound; and he stubbornly squashed whatever emotion raked through him. He’d cry over it later.

Link shouted at his men to fire. Arrows flew alongside spears; but one deafening roar from the creature sent their weapons careening backwards. Zelda tore herself away from his grasp, falling to her knees in pain as her hands shot to her ears. The Slate clattered off.

In his peripheral vision he could see the final two Divine Beasts were trained on the castle now.

They weren’t firing. Why? He didn’t understand why; someone was supposed to already be in the control room, weren’t they? _Someone_ had shut down those Sentries-

An epiphany struck him. Panic seized control.

They’d been led into a trap.

The Calamity was far more intelligent than he’d realized; and like Rhoam, his naivety would be the death of too many people.

What had he _done?_ Fool- a fool, that's what he was. Fool king, fool boy, fool girl against his chest. His thoughts were scattering, gone before he could snatch them up.

It raised a limb. Thunder clapped at the same moment that monster’s leg pounded against cobblestone, turning their fighting chances into nothing more than a pipe dream.

Rain spilled from above. The blue lightning streaking across the sky had turned violet: those clouds more like noxious, blackened gas dragged from the depths of Death Mountain as it swept over them. It burned his lungs, his eyes, his skin. He held his breath to see Zelda coughing, hair splayed over stone as she curled into a ball. 

The Earth shook violently. Windows along the throne room shattered to pieces against the tremors, sending them all stumbling. Link had to thrust his sword into the concrete beneath him to stay on his feet: catching sight of their own bridge breaking off before the land around Hyrule Castle erupted.

Colossal towers rose out of the Earth. They were of carved slate and glaring crimson lights. Yet, that red glow didn’t just come from those pillars- there were beams dancing through the air. The Sentries had woken from their feigned slumber.

That red-maned beast charged with a hanging jaw: spider-like limbs trampling over Rhoam’s battered corpse. Impa and Robbie leapt out of the way, narrowly avoiding a painful death the other knights couldn’t.

Impa’s scream reverberated through the castle grounds- a desperate, hoarse warning to him and the princess at his feet:

_“Run!”_

Link dove toward Zelda, Hylians turned to cinders, and the Calamity would rear its head in full.

  



	24. Atlas: Part One

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. Ok this might be the most depressing thing I've ever written.  
> 2\. I wound up extending things one more chapter. There was _just_ too much to squeeze in, and after reaching about 200k words I figure pacing is more important than length ahaha  
> 3\. The wait was a little longer this time because of how much it was out of my comfort zone. I'd appreciate any feedback you guys have to offer, as always!  
> 4\. Canolo is cute and 'Missing in Action' was probably my favorite quest in the game ngl  
> 5\. Also, this chapter will probably require basic knowledge of the Champion's Ballad to be fully understood!

Trails of starlight saved them from the Beast’s jaws. 

The Calamity would flail: blinded and battered as Link wrapped his arms around Zelda’s waist. Her Guardians had reacted without use of the Slate, giving him the time he needed to wrench the girl to her feet and scramble down the ramps. A line of white boots pounded after them- their strides faltering against the quakes.

Arlo and the other royal guards’ shouts for retreat were nearly inaudible against the roar of mountainous structures rising to cradle Hyrule Castle. Spires of slate. Pillars to bear the weight of a Stygian sky.

Researchers were pale phantoms: flitting in and out of sight as they fled. Zelda’s hallowed Guardians cascaded above, nothing but broken husks of fire and electricity being flung into dirt or windows by the Beast raging after them.

It was lightning that crashed against brick; and Hyrule Castle’s chapel tower gave way against the force: the sound like cracking bones and snapping trees. It fell too fast for some of them to react.

Arlo there one second and gone the next: reduced to a mangled hand only visible beneath brick and mortar- blood fanning out from the opening. One by one, familiar faces who should have been on their heels spirited away into storms of sand and dust with every flash of lightning- every roll of thunder that careened against archways, rooftops, or lookout towers. Each of them a spike through his chest. A lump in his throat.

Distracting. It was distracting: the hurt piling and piling and piling up.

 _“Link!”_ the princess screamed above the chaos, pulling at his arm hard enough to tear fabric. He twisted on his heel to see a pair of frantic eyes and teeth bared in fear.

Past her was a beam pointed right at his forehead. The Calamity sat perched on a bridge high above: an arm of rounded slate lifted. It was flashing, tracing- rising in tempo. He had just enough time to suck in a breath, push Zelda behind him, and dart forward.

Light pealed. The timing wasn’t right; his shield fragmented- the pieces glinting, scattering into the open air. Before he knew it, skin had torn and his head was cracking to the left. Pain cut across his cheekbone. A mist of blood painted the wall next to him, Zelda’s voice a distant cry as torrid air enveloped his limbs-

Link tapped his bruised cheek rather forcefully, that dulled pain dispelling the latest memory which had tried to demand his attention.

“Didn’t anyone tell you? No one’s day is productive until a Bokoblin’s given ‘em a black eye.”

Kass chuckled, quipping, “Well, it looks to me you’ve had a productive _week,_ then.”

“And it’s only Wednesday,” he tacked on, that black eye of his lit up by his Slate’s screen. He was looking at it on the front camera, almost wincing at the ugly sight of purple smeared across the side of his face.

He glanced over to the Rito: a tower of bright feathers turned leaden under a sable sky. Clouds were thick, leaving not a flicker of starlight to be seen over Kass’ broad shoulder. 

When Link’s eyes flitted back to that poet’s, there was a hint of caution in tone as he stated, “I’d say you’ve earned yourself a week off already.”

His Slate powered off; and shadow swept over his features. “I’d say I’m on a roll.”

Another chuckle. Forced, but dismissive nonetheless. Feathers drummed across an accordion before he changed the subject, “...You know, you have wonderful timing. I was hoping to speak with you... Would you be willing to listen? It may take some time.”

Hands moved to Link’s hips. A smile. “Of course.”

Kass’ expression lit up as he turned to face him properly. “Thank you ever so much… it was about my teacher, you see. He was of the Sheikah tribe- he was the court poet for the Hyrulean royal family.”

 _Reed?_ He’d survived then. That was good. Tavern halls were always too lifeless without him.

None of what the Rito said next surprised him. Zelda, Reed in all his jealousy, nor their relationship’s utter lack of subtly. Though, the song which was sung left him staring listless and perplexed.

_‘The princess’ love for her fallen knight awakens her power.’_

Was that it? The trigger of it all?

Riju’s words from over a year ago resurfaced: Zelda’s habit of projecting her abilities onto what it was that she cared for. It was a theory he had mulled over for some time. Thus, although he found the revelation somewhat surprising, he was far from dumbfounded by it all.

“So… appointed knight. Will you accept this song from my departed teacher?”

Lost as he was, the song had ended before he realized it.

“Yes,” he replied reflexively, and that was the end of their conversation. However, it was far from being cast away from his mind.

In the end, there was only one revelation he would take with him as he wandered off to purchase the arrows he needed for the next leg of his trials.

He should have died sooner. 

Rays of moonlight fluttered between wool-like clouds; and Link would ruminate over the implications of his reasons for living turning out to be, conflictingly, far better reasons to die. 

The both of them would have been spared of the horrid sights and choices they were forced to make. The Champions would have lived. They could have helped her weaken Ganon in his place. All of it done in the blink of an eye- allowing Zelda to witness only one death rather than the sum of over thirty hours.

His own death was likely the result of a stupid mistake; he’d probably tripped on a laser or a Yiga’s arrow somewhere along Hylia River. In fact, his shield alone had nearly blinded and shredded his face to ribbons. Surely a second was all it took- just as it had for thousands of people that day. Hylia’s Champion he may be, but his life could be snuffed out just as easily all the same.

Hyrule would have been better off without him. A fact that, despite being pointless to dwell on, simply wouldn’t leave him in peace.

Hope. There was supposed to be hope in Reed’s music. The melody would resound in Link’s head, but its chorus replaced with yet another cacophony of _if onlys_ and the name of a victim by each hour he spent breathing on stolen time. 

  


* * *

  


_“It’s looking for us.”_

Zelda’s voice was a hushed whimper- too quiet to even be a proper warning. 

_“It won’t let us leave.”_

A statement. A prediction. An admittance of defeat. 

He wouldn’t have it.

Link swept the both of them into a dark corner: listening as the Calamity barreled over the ramparts. It slithered over one bulwark to the next. Roars echoed across the castle grounds. Coming and going- closer and then farther.

He held her tighter every time the Beast tore past. Furious, searching- sniffing them out like a bloodhound. She wouldn’t be taken like the rest of them. Not by brick, by flame, or by a jaw lined with jagged teeth.

He was too selfish for something like that; he was always selfish when it came to her. Too much effort had gone into preserving her life for too long. Life and limb he thought. He’d go cold before she did.

The Beast’s heavy steps faded again. They needed to run, he reminded himself. They couldn’t hide forever. Link slowly poked his head out of their nook, holding his breath. But there was no nook. It was just open space: the marble of the sanctum floor now beneath his feet. 

His face cast in orange. A pair of eyes mere feet from him. It was there: the Calamity. Dangling from the thrones above with malice pooling and his father’s sword a wasted effort melting away. Something like a purr rumbled from that Beast as Link went to shield Zelda from it; yet he realized the only thing left in his arms was a dirty dress. 

A quiet shock gripped him. Something snapped when he stumbled. A fractured skull beneath the heel of his boot amidst a sea of older, yellowing bone. A mess of golden hair tangled in the mounds.

Not the past he thought. Not a memory. A future. Soldiers and a king and a girl waiting for him to join them. He thought he might. He should. He would. Pale fabric slipped from his fingers, a jaw opened, and Link stood motionless as the Devil swallowed him whole. 

  


* * *

  


“This is awfully nosy of me… but have you slept at all?”

Two days later, a Rito was failing to mind his own business.

Link stood on a hill overlooking Tabanthan cliffs. Wind tossed his hair, grass rustling in the breeze. He squinted up from Kass’ shadow, trying to make out his face against the glare of the sun behind him.

“Oh, yeah, last week,” was his cheeky response. 

He turned his face away to hide the evidence of a statement that wasn’t particularly far from the truth. That ugly purple had spread from his cheek to the area beneath his eyes: courtesy of nightmares more pesky than a bunch of Octoroks in a lake. The fears and the regrets would come for him at night. It was the price he paid: letting it all fester unattended from sunrise to sunset.

“...Right,” Kass’ tone had an uncharacteristically impolite drawl to it, “not lately, then.”

Link had no response for that other than a joking grin and a shrug.

He glanced behind Kass as he did in Rito Village, catching sight of Vah Medoh poised in the distance. Needles pricked in his chest. 

_‘Don’t any of you mess it up.’_

He quickly muttered something like an _‘if you’ll excuse me’_ to the Rito, and turned on his heel to begin inspecting the odd structures the monks left for him. Pictures of the land from above. Locations for more trials, it seemed.

He would be following in the Champions’ footsteps, they’d explained. Taking the briefest of glances to his fellow traveler, Link knew he wouldn't be the only one chasing after ghosts. Completing Reed’s unfinished work, he’d said. Ballads for each of the Champions.

Despite the blatant end to their talking, that poet hadn’t left or begun absentmindedly playing his accordion. He merely stared. Blinking. Link didn’t like the enigmatic look in his eye; but the sentiment driving Kass was admirable enough that he had a hard time resenting his presence- no matter how oddly disconcerting it’d become.

Anticipative. Dissecting. That’s what it felt like. A creeping suspicion told him this particular exchange wouldn’t be the last time Kass failed to mind his own business.

In the end, all he could do was shake the lethargy out of his head and trudge off to his next stop.

It was all repetitious. A challenge, a shrine, an ethereal orb floating between his palms, and a memory complete with a monster to conquer. The monks had quite the sense of humor: forcing him to face manifestations of the nightmares he’d been trying so desperately to block out over the last few weeks.

There was always the question in his mind- the thought that this all would have been so much easier if he had simply waited to dig so incessantly for all those memories of his. But, Zelda always told him he was the curious type. Impa, too.

What was that saying?

Curiosity killed the cat?

The monks made the Windblight stronger. Faster. Sturdier than before. 

Days it took him to beat that final challenge: kill that monster with little more than a bow, a knife, and down feathers to protect him. Regarding that accomplishment, Revali’s spirit spared a few words of praise buried beneath bravado and lofty tenors. Nothing from the usual, really. The bird hadn’t changed after a century.

Yet, Link had- hadn’t he?

How much had Zelda changed?

What would he give to spend even five minutes without a new question making a nuisance of itself in his head? Anything, it felt like.

The night was spent sitting off the edge of Vah Medoh’s perch, legs kicking as he listened to the cadence of Kass’ newest song reverberate across the valley. He’d closed his eyes, the ebb and flow of an accordion painting a portrait of Revali that Link suspected even that self-reverential Champion would approve of. 

  


* * *

  


Death Mountain was to his right and the latest itch he couldn’t reach to his left.

“...You Rito travel fast,” Link commented, the amused lilt to his tone disguising just how much he was beginning to lament that fact.

“Says the Hylian incapable of flying,” Kass chortled, swaying alongside the notes of his instrument. There was a bit of intrigue there in his face; but Link elected to ignore it.

Telling Kass about his ability to teleport? It didn’t seem as amusing as leaving that Rito baffled by it. He’d seen him beneath Vah Medoh only half a week ago, after all. A Hylian crossing the country in four days? It’s quite the mystery.

“Goddess,” the music of his accordion was cut off rather abruptly when he noticed an old bandage clinging to Link’s arm. “Four days and you’re already sporting another injury? My, I do hope that’s not causing you too much pain.” 

The musician recoiled from the sight a little. Blistering. Sticking to bandages. Springwater hadn’t much of an effect in healing it, nor elixirs. Burns had always been stubborn in that way. He bet Zelda would be able to explain why- her potions would have been able to fix it, too. They were always better than his.

_‘It’s why I always have an elixir handy, didn’t you realize?’_

She’d hate to see him now, dented and battered, wouldn’t she?

A bit of loneliness stung; and he quickly distracted himself with the wound Kass was eyeing so intently.

He lifted his forearm, frowning at it. A Skywatcher’s laser managed to nick him far South of Goron City. It didn’t hurt at all. However, one thing he knew very well was the worse the burn the less it hurt.

Link relayed the former to Kass, not the latter.

“Don’t worry. It’s alright,” he yawned, waving the injured limb. “Guardians have weaker firepower than they used to. Back in the good ‘ol days, I wouldn’t have any arm left if I got hit.”

“I suppose we’re lucky then… Perhaps our princess continues to protect us in more ways than one?” Kass mused, beak tilted to the Westward winds.

“...I wouldn’t say it’s more lucky,” that remark slipped out before his teeth could grind it away.

A cocked head. A chary look there. “What makes you say that?”

Unable to think of a way to recant those words of his, he walked toward the slate monument next to them with a truthful snip, “Getting blasted in the face back then was at least guaranteed to be _quick.”_

“That… is one way to look at it, I suppose.”

Kass’ spine straightened: the Rito watching him with some distress, perhaps. No further words were exchanged- he might’ve been unable to muster the courage to either push or pivot the subject. The bird was practically tap-dancing around the bushes: unwilling to pry yet unwilling to walk away from it. The indecision was remarkable, really.

Sighing, Link merely took out his Slate, pinned down locations, and left with a lazy wave.

Fireblight Ganon was always a little more complicated. Heat wasn’t something dodged so easily; it had a radius to it: one that was invisible to the naked eye.

Flame poured against slate- and the way it tumbled across that surface reminded Link too much of red curls whisked into the open air.

It was in the castle courtyard, wasn’t it?

(Cherese with hands around the wrist of an injured Sheikah- pulling them into shelter. A Skywatcher behind her. Link’s warning drowned out by the storm of fire and rock and rain and shifting gears around them.

He could only watch as the woman’s hair lifted off her shoulders, catching flame as swiftly as a candlewick. Brevity at its finest: just ash and charred bone left scattering across the earth.

Ten minutes later, he and Zelda had caught sight of Robbie near the dining area as they ran past: calling for a pile of bones. Neither of them had the courage nor opportunity to inform the man he’d probably passed Cherese’s remains several times- never once seeing the ghost that was no doubt there calling for him, too.)

The Fireblight’s mask was finally crushed with Daruk’s boulder breaker after five attempts, and Link’s gaze would find a Rito waiting patiently for him to return to his body. He had an accordion in hand, another verse in his pocket, and something enigmatic still swirling behind his eyes.

Daruk was there after Kass’ song finished, his words so spirited that Link found it all too easy to envision the smile behind them.

_If ya see that Ganon jerk, give him a message for me… Good riddance, bacon-breath!_

Eyes squeezed shut. He couldn’t help but smile, too. 

_“Bacon-breath,”_ he laughed weakly, repeating Daruk’s _oh_ so hurtful words. The Goron was so good natured that that really might’ve been the most vicious insult he could muster. 

Link would be sure to relay the message. 

  


* * *

  


_“Help!”_

A scream echoed over Zora Domain’s steep cliffs. Further below.

Link swung himself over the ridge, falling twenty feet onto his heels. The source was a Hylian fleeing from a flailing Bokoblin: a common sight in Hyrule, really.

She tripped over loose gravel, planting face first into the dirt. The contents of her pack scattered: a shower of elixirs and trinkets. By the time the woman scrambled to her knees, she was hacking through a plume of violet mist.

“Are you ok?” he asked, sheathing his sword and squatting to eye level. 

There was a dramatic sigh of relief. 

“Yes! Hylia, thank you,” The young woman shook out the hand that had taken the brunt of her fall, lifting her face.

He blinked. Tanned-skin, short pigtails- she was familiar. Gerudo Canyon: her and her companions trapped on the woodwork high above. A man blubbering for his help at the stables. “Ah- Canolo.”

 _“Whuzzat?”_ Recognition sparked and she pointed at him. “Oh! You’re the cute-” she coughed, sputtering at that slip, “th-the guy from Gerudo Canyon. Link, right?”

He resisted the urge to laugh. “Sure am.”

She grinned. An awkward smile, but endearing nonetheless. Canolo started gathering her things. Link helped her. “Geez, that was fast. You hear screaming and run right toward it, huh?”

“I’m the nosy type.”

The guilty type, more like. The thought of leaving anyone or anything behind repulsed him- now more so than ever, remembering what it was like.

A snicker. “Fortunately for me… Funny seeing you again, though. On the opposite end of the country and all. Small world, ain’t it?”

“Is there anyone else I should be looking for?” it was a half joke. A red elixir rolled off his palm into hers.

The laugh it garnered lacked spirit. “...Nah. We told you we were splitting up, didn’t we?”

“...You kept traveling alone?” there was a lilt of disapproval in his tone. What was it with Hylians and taking unnecessary risks? One hundred years of disorder had certainly made them blasé to danger. Hypocritical as he might be, at least he had the skills to get away with it.

“I’m the wandering type,” she said, flippant. “And now I finally get to go wherever I want without it being a group vote.” Canolo paused, lips pursing. She looked like she just tasted something sour. Maybe it was her words. “...Gotta admit it’s a little lonely.”

She was looking away, eyes downcast. A regretful frown there. He frowned, too.

“Yeah… it is,” Link agreed with a suggestion, “I’ve got some ink and paper if you want it.” He shrugged, benign. “They might feel the same way.”

A withering look was sent his direction, but the contemplative silence to follow told him it was far from off the table.

“You’re not using it?” she inquired after a long moment. Her meaning might’ve been layered.

Link could only give a truthful answer. “No, I’m not.”

“I… thanks. I’ll pay you for some, then.”

Canolo went to put away the bottle only to stop. She evaluated his cuts and contusions and at the end of it, plopped the elixir back into his own hand.

A protest made it part of the way out of his mouth before she cut him off. “That’s for helpin’ me.”

“I don’t need a reward.”

“Shut up.” she wagged a finger at him. “Don’t try and tell me some mumbo jumbo like the good deed is reward enough. Only _Sesami_ would say something that cheesy.”

It was enough, actually, but the muted sincerity in her face made him relent anyway.

He smiled, somber and appreciative. “Thanks, Canolo.”

There was a smile to match and a sharp nod- pigtails bouncing as she leapt to her feet. 

Ten minutes later, Canolo had waved at him as she walked off toward Zora’s Domain, and Link stayed behind- holding his arm under the current of a small waterfall.

The heat that should have accompanied his old burn had suddenly appeared after their conversation. Itching. Stinging.

He kept his forearm in water, recoiling from the droplets that splattered outwards. The cliff waters in Zora’s Domain were always pure. Soothing. It was supposed to help. However, when he withdrew his arm, the sensation had not retreated in the slightest.

It’d been a pointless test from the beginning: Link was already familiar with the feeling. He’d felt it a century ago after hugging Zelda behind the Temple of Time, and he’d felt it for an entire day after. It was something else under his skin- some manifestation of his anxieties.

It was all catching up faster than he’d hoped. The feelings of loss.

Impa’s face materialized in his mind’s eye alongside a tentative suggestion from the more sensible half of him. Talk. Vent. Find solace in chamomile and mint. The motion was flatly denied. He didn’t want to talk. Link would tell himself it was because the trials were more important- that he didn’t want to risk losing momentum.

But, really, he was scared, wasn’t he?

He’d become a hypocrite again, yet- this time, he couldn’t get away with it.

Wind picked up, grasping at his hair and hood. His eyes followed that invisible force South: to Vah Ruta’s silhouette blotting out an azure horizon.

Heat spiked and Link would flee North, a hand gripping his burned arm so tightly it bled. 

  


* * *

  


Often, he thought Sidon had sharper vision than a Rito. 

The Zora always managed to catch Link walking into town no matter what he was wearing. A hood, a steel helmet, a green cap- and once, a Gerudo vai’s veil as an experiment. Perhaps it was the way he walked. Or, perhaps, it wasn’t a keen eye Sidon possessed, but rather a talent for sniffing out trouble.

“Good afternoon, my friend!” The prince was beaming down at him, his feather swaying with every wide gesture. “How long has it been?!”

Link’s neck was craned as far back as it could to make eye contact, fingers held up to go with his statement:

“Probably six w-”

 _“Too long!”_

“Yep,” he yapped, narrowly dodging one of Sidon’s infamous double handshakes. He was hardly fazed and laughed before rattling off a line of questions.

How are you? Where have you been? What are you here for? Are you planning on staying? Where did you get those bruises? Were they from another Lynel up that blasted mountain?

Fine, great, perfect, fine. Anywhere, everywhere. Supplies, food for travel. No, just an errand or two then gone again into the slopes, the trees, the fog, the deep waters- wherever duty beckoned. Monsters, falls, Guardians, little mistakes here and there. Yeah, just one bruise- shaped like a hoof, see?

They were both yammering on. Though, Link couldn’t help but take too many glances to his left in the middle of it. Between a small river of townsfolk and travelers, Mipha’s visage peered at him. A hooded limestone gaze. Shadows thick beneath a noon sun. 

He’d keep watch of that etched marble, irrational fears worming their way into his mind and convincing him that- maybe- if he looked away for too long it’d start moving or point a finger: a crystalline mouth opening to accuse him of ignoring her calls for help all those years ago.

Somewhere along the way her expression had started to look more bitter than sweet, after all.

It made him sick to his stomach.

“By the way, we stumbled upon an old gift you and I gave to Muzu for his three-hundreth birthday, and for some reason it _reeks_ of onions… You wouldn’t happen to know why, would you?”

Laughter bubbled up from Link’s chest. Its sincerity surprised himself.

“You should ask Dento. _You_ stole it from his shop!”

He balked at that. _“Stealing?_ I would never-”

Sidon’s rambling became an anchor that kept his attention from drifting off to the wraith looming over Zora Domain’s square. It eased the tension in his shoulders. Link was losing himself in the banter: relief swelling, good memories outweighing the bad just like Mipha wanted. Solace found in a close friend- a Zora just a little too dense to see past his placid facade.

“I can’t believe he kept it if it still _smells_ like that.”

“I can’t believe you let me give it to him!”

“It was either that or a bunch of weeds you picked out, bud,” Link countered. “I worked with what I had.”

“You chose a blanket that smelled of old vegetables over flowers?”

“It was _prettier_ than the weeds. But I gotta admit the onion smell was a plus for me.”

A little revenge, honestly. 

Sidon heaved a theatrical sigh. Still, he was grinning. “I was thinking of asking your help a second time, but I’m starting to think that is a terrible idea.”

“What? For Muzu?” Link recoiled somewhat- though less at that suggestion than the timing of it. “...His birthday is in Fall. Isn’t it– it’s March, isn’t it?”

Was it Fall? In all his daze, he actually entertained the harrowing thought that he’d somehow lost half a year of time. Sidon’s incredulous laughter was a relief, yet his next words were not.

“Goddess, no. It is Spring,” an arm lifted, dragging his attention, unfortunately, to Mipha. “Do you remember? My sister’s birthday is in a few weeks… All the Zora celebrate, as you know, but my father and I plan to hold a much smaller ceremony-”

Feeling returned in that second. Some kind of hurt splintered, streaking from his chest down to his hands. His eyes moved here and there, jaw taut as he tried to find something other than Sidon’s words to focus on.

Mipha’s statue was glaring, now. Strict. Reminding him of the diligence he needed to upkeep.

 _Don’t for a second complain,_ it looked to admonish him. _Don’t for a second try and play victim._

“I won’t,” he whispered, halfway to insanity and only halfway through his trials. _“I’m not, I promise.”_

“What was that? You won’t go?” Sidon glanced down. Hurt was in his voice, and Link swallowed down bile.

“I will,” he blurted with a bright smile, babbling on and cramming down whatever it was that had possessed him. “I’ll be back for it. I remember she liked Gerudo patterns a lot. She was always really jealous of Urbosa’s skirts but thought she’d never look good in one- so instead Zelda and I got a sash made from a Gerudo seamstress we knew for her twentieth-”

The words stopped coming. It’d been her last birthday, hadn’t it?

Sidon cocked his head, opened his mouth, and suddenly Link’s own brown boots were in sight as he walked steadily across the Great Bridge. He had abandoned both his errands and their conversation, but couldn’t remember how. It’d been too much, had it?

He’d been worried time would slip away without his knowing; and, as if the Goddesses thought that was some kind of opportunity to mock him, it was exactly what started to happen. Days turned to sand between his fingers- the effect only amplified with every passing night of insomnia. Flashes like the click of his Slate’s camera.

Kass loitering by those pictures again. An afternoon sun. Birds flocking overhead. 

“You must like me a lot to keep following me around like this. Is there something you’re not telling me?” Link had jeered at him. 

“Apologies,” the poet replied with mirth, “but I _am_ married.”

He’d responded to that wisecrack with more sarcasm; yet he hadn’t a clue what it was. Then- Muzu grumbling about riddles by the seaside and a makeshift fire whilst Link waited for the night to pass. Soon after, Skywatchers North of the city buzzing like wasps. Chasing rings of light up a waterfall- or wandering up a hill, humming some stupid tune carried away by the Domain’s strong winds.

Seven days and only five brief memories retained.

Come to think of it, he didn’t remember much of escaping the castle, either.

(It was Impa’s face that he recalled most clearly. Calm. Focused. The woman was always unshakable no matter the situation.

Briefly, they’d seen her near the West wing with Zelda’s Slate clutched to her chest. The princess had yelled for her, extended a hand- but a pillar fell between them when a Stalker slammed into it. Impa’s braid was singed by a laser from that Guardian: coming apart like frayed rope as she sprinted through narrow gaps in the breastworks. 

Zelda screamed- fought for them to go back; Link wouldn’t risk it.

 _“She doesn’t die that easily,”_ were the repetitious words he forced in her ear as she struggled to follow that woman straight into oblivion. _“She doesn’t. You know she doesn’t-”_

A reassurance for the both of them.

Seeing Impa had given him an idea that led them to the Observation Room’s balcony: casting a lifeline of hemp over the guardrail and boots slipping against wet cliff sides as they descended. 

Horses were still tied down by the stables, kicking and frenzied. They leapt onto one that took them down the castle’s winding road faster than Skywaters or Guardians could keep up: straight through warped gates into a sea of flame. 

Smoke. Charred wood mingling with seared flesh. Corpses blackened at the edge of the road, arms raised to hide their face and limbs still flaking ash. A glimpse into Hell: a mass graveyard forged under the vigilant watch of a Guardian’s eye.

By that point, Castle Town was enveloped in nothing but the steady roar of flame: anyone or anything capable of screaming lost to the slaughter. Guardians burst from walls of fire in a scarlet fever- careening through the streets or scrambling over rooftops to charge after them.

Link only dared to look back once they’d cleared the capital’s gates.

The Calamity spiraled like a tempest as it ascended into the firmament. It settled upon the spires of that crumbling structure. That picture alone felt like a nail in the coffin. Hyrule Castle, the very foundation of their country, reduced to little more than a symbol of rack and ruin.

It was gone.

Zelda didn't shed a single tear for the skeletal remains of her home as they rode away- her wide-eyed, vacant stare frightening him more than the growing swarm of Guardians in their wake ever could.)

Link spun a trident in his hand, a blur of silverwork as he pivoted on his heel. The Waterblight’s own spear thrust past him: a wave of air following the powerful motion. He was unimpressed; the Waterblight was always the slowest- a point which was proved when it failed to retract its outstretched limb before he darted forward and raked Mipha’s spear across its arm.

The action nearly severed it in two. Violet lifeblood spewed forth. A grating screech reverberated off the walls as water surged and flooded through the hollowed space. Link knelt atop one of the room’s platforms as they rose, ducking beneath another sweeping blow from the Blight. 

Its body vanished in a flash of blue only to reappear at his left with extra ammunition. The hailstorm of ice it fired at Link forced him to dive into the water. Of course, the action was a mistake; a hand of malice took the opportunity to follow after him and pin his arms to his sides, holding him underneath the surface. Its touch was acidic. Malice seeped in through his clothing.

His lungs and limbs burned as he tried to force his way out. Its grip was too strong. Lethargy began to set in- oxygen deprivation quick to take effect. Link would stop fighting it. It was fine- he could try again, after all. Avoid the water next time. A lesson learned.

Rays of light filtered from above: undulating waves weathering away his consciousness.

At least, until a peculiar sound echoed through the waters. Something rhythmic. Guttural. 

Was that Blight _laughing?_

There was a moment, a split second that his head was empty before a question presented itself:

Did it laugh at Mipha, too?

The anger he’d buried so deeply clawed its way to the surface. His lungs were burning; yet it wasn’t from a need for air anymore.

An arm wormed its way out of the Blight’s grip. His hand dug into malice, prying away fingers as he wrenched his other arm free. Nevermind the sting of contact. Nevermind the poisoned flesh left behind.

(A divet in the road sent them flying from their horse’s back. Something snapped before Link and Zelda made contact with the earth: tumbling, skidding through mud. The princess screamed in pain, her voice blending in with the wailing of their mount as it writhed helplessly in the dirt. He scrambled over to Zelda, checking her for wounds. A scraped shoulder. Deep gashes on her forearms.

He spared a glance to the animal panicking further behind. A leg bent and broken. There was no saving it. No helping it.

 _“The poor thing… What do we do?”_ she was saying- the girl’s tone half-empty. She couldn’t keep up with it. Something in her was suppressing it, he knew. Rationality came easier to her than emotion- maybe she could bear it better than he could. Link shook his head rapidly, eyes squeezing shut as he helped Zelda to her feet.

 _“We have to leave it,”_ he forced. The Guardians would catch up soon- the Sword was thrumming. He could already sense those machinations nearing; and he was certain they could feel the same. His voice cracked- hardly audible over that horse’s neighing. _“We can’t stay, Zelda.”_

They couldn’t help it. They couldn’t do a thing but listen to its pleas for help fade in the distance.)

 _“Damn thing-”_ Link cursed, nocking back an arrow.

It flew: making contact with the Blight’s eye. The creature cascaded backwards as he chased after it, leaping off a pillar of ice. Mipha’s spear materialized in his hand before he landed on its chest, flipped the trident downward, and drove it straight through.

The Blight screamed at him. He merely responded by twisting the weapon.

(The rain grew more and more torrential the closer they got to the Wetlands: rivers already flooding, water spilling over the banks and carrying away fallen trees. 

Hardly anything was left of Rebonae Bridge- destroyed by the currents if not the Guardians.

 _“We- we can still cross!”_ Zelda pointed to what few planks remained intact.

Link was weighing the risk in his mind when a noise carried over the landscape. It was a blare like a trumpet- something which drew their attention to the North. The frame of a Divine Beast could hardly be seen through the dense rainfall: a trunk aimed at the sky, summoning the worst deluge Hyrule had ever seen. He couldn’t wrap his head around the sheer magnitude of it all.

The waters suddenly grew violent after that blare, casting away the remains of Rebonae Bridge and any hope of making it to the other side.

 _“It’s- Ruta is trying to stop us,”_ the princess had made a connection he couldn’t. 

_“Mipha?”_ he asked, lost. _“Why would she-”_

Another roar sounded and Zelda stumbled with a grunt of pain. Hands over her ears again, fistfuls of hair between her fingers. Link’s hands were on her shoulders, trying to ask questions.

 _“What- what is it?”_ her mutterings were a current in their own right. Spilling- pouring out of her and drowning out his voice. _“I know. I can hear you-”_

Link went to draw her face up; but Zelda’s hand spasmed outward, grasping his shirt. A pair of green eyes locked onto his- blonde hair sticking to her face. Words came out in fervent, urgent breaths, _“Ruta is calling for help. A monster’s in there taking control, Link. She’s going to die if someone doesn’t get there.”_

 _“We’re too far,”_ he refuted, eyes darting to Beast miles and miles and miles away. _“We can’t-”_

The girl dragged her hands across the sides of her own face, fear everywhere. Emotion finally seeping through. _“She’s losing. Something must be-”_

_“Zelda, the Zora-”_

_“Her soldiers are already dead!”_

_“Stop!”_ Link grabbed her wrists, that word more of a plea than it was a command. _“We can’t do anything!”_

The princess stared up at him, lips parted. 

_“We have to keep running,”_ his insistence was barely above a whisper, pitching. Weak.

What could they do? How could he help? Nothing. There was nothing he could do. It hurt. Like needles behind his eyes, beneath his lungs. He hated it. He mourned that reality. He feared it. It was unfair. All of it wrong and nothing he could do to make it right.

 _“You’re...you’re right,”_ Zelda’s eyes were hollow again. Her tone dead in the water. _“We can’t do anything for any of them.”_

He stared, the meaning of those words slow to dawn on him.

The silence was fleeting until more howls resounded in the distance. One by one a cry from Rudania, Naboris, and Medoh growing indistinguishable from one another. Link’s eyes drifted over the expanse of Hyrule, watching each of their lasers dwindle into nothing. Their Beasts were being taken over- set to join in Ruta’s rampage.

All of it together the sound of a country sinking into Hell; and the coarse, pulsating noise of a Guardian’s engine told him he and Zelda would be soon to follow.

To the South they would flee: unable to do anything but listen to Mipha’s call for help fade into the distance.)

He stared down at the Blight when it seized: contorting and bursting into mist. Mipha’s trident fell after it vanished; and his own chest rose and fell as he seethed, watching that spear clatter off the platform and into the water. Pillars of ice shattered around him in tandem with that illusory realm. Glimmering shards, floating. Catching light.

The hot iron running in his veins hadn’t left: the anger failing to excuse itself even after he’d dispatched what he’d thought was the source of it.

When reality took hold again, cool night air lifted his cloak from his shoulders. The wind was rough- a storm brewing. Sparks flittered through dense clouds; yet Link made no move to escape from the high ground he stood upon. Neither did his fellow traveler, it seemed.

Amber eyes were scrutinizing his face, his harsh breaths, and the stained bandages unravelling from his forearm. Link bristled. The sword on his back rattled as he trudged over to Kass, barking a demand before the bird could muster a greeting.

“Play it.”

A heartbeat of more indecision passed. Ultimately, a sigh escaped Kass before he lifted his accordion. The instrument played a pattern of cords that struck him more as a pattern of plain noise; yet he focused on it, memorizing the lyrics of Kass’ song just as he had with all the others.

Mipha would speak during the final few notes, her voice rising as the music fell.

_As powerful as you are, I am certain you can save Hyrule… as well as the princess who awaits you._

Her voice was devoid of the bitterness he’d thought he’d seen in her memorial. That made him feel worse, somehow.

Kass went to chirp something to fill the silence, “Master Link-”

Whatever look was on his face stuffed a figurative gag into the poet’s beak before he turned, tightened his sword’s strap, and stalked off. 

  


* * *

  


Yiga.

Despite dwelling in such a small hideout, Link was beginning to think there was no end to them. He drummed his fingers along a large, pale sphere as he deliberated on just how to sneak it through the back exit. Orange radiated from that object, and he couldn’t help but appreciate that, for once, it wasn’t a lurid red he was forced to stare at.

A floorboard creaked behind him. Link’s head snapped around, coming face to face with a smaller clan member. Arms and legs were spread out: their shock apparent even with a mask covering their expression. It seemed he’d taken too long in his musing. 

Their head twitched down, indicating that they’d taken notice of the half-eaten banana in Link’s other hand.

With a derisive grin, he tossed it over his shoulder. Indignation took over that Yiga rather quickly. 

Curses were shouted, two blades were drawn, and his opponent was sent flying through wooden panels by the heel of his boot. White smoke erupted: five more raising their weapons. Link dashed into the plumes to meet them.

He didn’t particularly dislike this turn of events; he was more in the mood for a fight, anyway. It was almost amusing, really. Their battles had become somewhat of a source for comedy after three years of roadside squabbles.

It occurred to him he didn’t hate them as much as he should.

He never had.

( _“Just break it off,”_ Link grimaced, looking over his shoulder. Zelda’s hands were fumbling- unsteady as she fought to break the shaft of an arrow stuck just beneath his shoulder blade. The head would remain embedded in his skin; but it was better than losing any more blood.

 _“I- I got it,”_ the princess stammered. He immediately ran off to pilfer arrows and a bow from the prone Yiga who’d shot him. It was pried out of their grasp- a hand remaining lifted in weak protest. The best they could muster after being cracked across the face by the pommel of his sword.

A broken mask. Brown eyes. Lidded. Half conscious and too dazed to vanish under the cover of smoke and talisman paper.

“A Stalker is coming!” Zelda warned him, sensing the machine before he even heard it. 

The Sword rang- corroborating that statement of hers- and he was pulling her along without a wasted moment: ignoring yet another weak protest from the Yiga. Feet splashed in mud. It should have been easy not to look back. He shouldn’t. He wouldn’t. He did. 

The flicker of a laser- the crash of falling trees. He winced knowing that there was nothing left of that Yiga.

Zelda let out a quiet sob, a hand over her mouth. Knots in his chest.

The clan had sniffed them out in the forests East of Hyrule Field, shooting volleys of arrows and leaping from the canopies above. Assassins and Guardians alike chasing after the blood in Zelda’s veins, the sword on his back.

Suicidal, the lot of them. The Yiga: followers of the Calamity but people nonetheless. Guardians didn’t discriminate. Ganon didn’t discriminate. They didn’t care, though, did they? This was their moment, wasn’t it? Fight the good fight, kill the princess and her retainer. Link tried to show mercy. He tried as hard as he could; yet they kept coming. Even after being disarmed. Even after a hand, an arm, or a leg was taken by his sword. Most wound up too injured to escape- turned to kindling.

They dug their own grave. Link would kick them into it and leave the Guardians to bury them.

However, there was an advantage to the Guardians’ indiscriminate assaults he couldn’t ignore: it bought them time. For every Yiga those machines stopped to dispatch, he and Zelda gained distance. An extra foot between him and those one-eyed devils hunting down the only tether to his sanity.

They rounded a bend in the path. Arrows cut them off- another grazing his shoulder just as he managed to move in front of Zelda. Behind an oak she went: into the cover of the bushes. Three Yiga. One flung into a tree, a second’s jaw broken, and the third’s heels cut by Link’s sword.

Rapid uneven strides taken toward the flora- the girl curled in a bed of thorns.

 _“I’m sorry,”_ Zelda had said as she looked up at him. Hair tangled in the foliage. Dress caught on thorns. She kept whispering apologies as he pulled her from the vines, both hands clinging to his own. _“I’m so sorry you have to do this.”_

Did he look that distraught? He was certain he did. Mipha had been right. He was too soft for this. They were both too soft for this. Zelda’s lip trembled. Misty-eyed. The girl slowly coming undone. Even she, faced with her mother’s killers- her own would-be murders, didn’t have a heart for it.

She didn’t deserve this.

For that, Link wouldn’t hesitate.

Off they went again into the thicket. Three flashes of light behind them. Three precious seconds earned.)

Link tossed the orb into the deep. He waited for it to reach the end of that cavern: counting the seconds. He listened. He stared. He kept counting even as the shrine he’d been looking for rose into view. One, seven, twelve, twenty-

The sound never came. A waste of time. He would admonish himself. Zelda was waiting. Don’t linger, don’t loiter, don’t slow down.

Three seconds wasted is three precious seconds bought for Ganon. 

  


* * *

  


Electricity danced: blinding light striking along the walls of Naboris’ belly. A black figure dashed toward him, cutting across his chest and through Gerudo silk before Link could react. He could never get the timing of that thing’s movements down quite right; the Thunderblight was always the one he hated the most.

Faster. Sharp. Far too tricky for his liking. Impatience gripped him.

He retaliated with the swipe of Urbosa’s shield. The force of that blow was strong enough to produce a tremor that shot through his limbs and send that Blight skidding backwards, rolling across the floor. He raced after it, tossing his shield aside.

It scrambled to recover. A beam charged, he raised his scimitar, a thread of heat passed over his shoulder, and a blade pierced malice.

Over in an instant.

The Blight went limp and fell to the floor. Link put his hands on his knees, heaving from the exertion of it as his eyes wandered across a red mane splayed over slate. Urbosa might’ve looked like that, he thought, and ground out curses- loathing every detail of the image that painted in his mind.

Mercifully, the illusion collapsed in upon itself. 

Link found himself opening his eyes to Vah Naboris looming above him. A setting sun cast its shadow over the desert below. It was a welcome change of scenery- however, he lost sight of it when his eyes began to hurt. Hands moved to his face. Something felt wrong- off center. It felt like a crack in his skull: his head splitting.

He thought- he felt, not all of him had returned to his body. Something was left behind.

Wings flapped and talons scraped across sandstone. Kass behind him.

“Are you still adrift in thought?”

Link’s head tilted, eyes unfocused as he tried to see that Rito clearly.

“You seem lost to the whims of your mind-” he paused. “...Oh, pardon me. I suppose it’s none of my business.” 

It wasn’t. That observation was entirely correct, though. More so than he wanted to admit.

Wind pushed sand along Naboris’ plateau. One small grain after the next steadily eroding away that towering rock. Slowly but surely over time. Inevitability at its finest.

For whatever reason, he didn’t have to tell the Rito to play his song; he cut right to the chase. It was good that Kass closed his eyes to focus on the music, ensuring that he couldn’t see the way Link’s own fluttered open and closed- wincing at the noise. That accordion sounded distorted: grating in pitch. It was more painful than before. Practically unbearable.

Another sharp pain cut through his vision. Like an ice pick hammered through his skull. He could have sworn he felt the bone cave in. Burning followed: the coals of a brasier rolling off his shoulders again. Ash and embers down his back.

It hurt. It hurt. But he shouldn’t complain.

The lyrics. What were the lyrics? He tried to listen through the ringing in his ears; but it was lost to the warped rhythm of an accordion: every compression of that instrument abrading his ability to perceive the world around him.

He became convinced that by the time that song finished, there would simply be nothing left of it.

And so, he left before that Rito even opened his eyes again. 

  


* * *

  


He knew better than this; he’d been taught better than this.

Link downed a fifth green tonic as he climbed the slope to the Shrine of Resurrection. Stumbling in the darkness. Metal creaked at his hip: a lantern sending shadows bouncing over the dirt. His breath fogged- the air on the Plateau still chilly despite the April showers settling across Hyrule.

A gloved hand pressed against the mouth of that tunnel for support. His hood slipped away when a breeze filtered from somewhere within, touseling hair as it went. 

A monk’s voice echoed off those walls. Instructions, as always. Take the Slate to the pedestal. Conquer a Divine Beast.

The last leg of his trials was waiting down there. Link reflected on the extent of his exhaustion, trying to gauge how many more steps he could force. A silly thing to ruminate on, wasn’t it? He knew better than to push himself to a point where it was necessary to have such a debate. However, as Kass had said, he was lost to the whims of his mind. 

He’d tried to rest. Tried to sleep. It never worked.

He knew better than to be alone with thoughts so hostile towards him. Plenty of times he’d stood with the map on his Slate open and his finger hovering over Kakariko. And each time it slipped away, the screen turning black to reveal his miserable reflection.

_‘...Gotta admit it’s a little lonely.’_

_‘Yeah... it is.’_

Link was too restless; his desire to finish it all as quickly as he could outweighed any longing for the scent of chamomile. If he were to go- if he were to step foot past the threshold of that house, he knew he wouldn’t have the will to leave.

Opening Impa’s door was opening a door that needed to stay closed.

_‘You’re not using it?’_

_‘No, I’m not.’_

Letters were just as much of a danger as that sliding door of hers. Impa was always too sharp; the last thing he needed was that woman seeing his messy, sleep-deprived handwriting and sending a bunch of Sheikah after him to drag him away from his tasks.

And, in the end, he’d rather be lonely than continue to burden them with the worst sides of him. That was all.

Was this all rational, he wondered?

It felt rational.

He’d been halfway to mad in Zora’s Domain. Where was he now?

More questions. Too many questions.

His head hurt. Splitting. He lurched forward, putting one foot in front of the other. A broken machination.

_Stop._

The word seized him.

“...Zelda?”

_What are you doing?_

Appalled. Bewildered.

“It looks worse than it is,” he downplayed the entirety of his appearance as best he could.

_Link._

Angry. Didn’t work.

“Don’t waste your energy talking to me,” he laughed. Link hoped it sounded more stable to her than it did him. “You need it.”

He kept walking.

She handles her end and he handles his. She keeps the monster back and he fixes up the mess it made. Three is nothing compared to one hundred. He can’t complain. No right to complain, really. Mipha said so, too.

_You need to rest._

No. No. It eats him up. Can’t she understand?

“I _can’t,”_ his voice came out like cut glass.

Hands were on slate, wrapped around the edge of a tub. His deathbed: empty. Why was he always so relieved to see it empty? He still didn’t know.

_...Link._

His name again. Quieter this time. Something else there he couldn’t identify. 

_Could you listen to me for a moment?_

“I am,” he mumbled.

_You’re tired, aren’t you?_

Her voice alleviated his headache. Why was it always so calming, hearing her voice? 

“...I am.”

_So sit for just a few minutes, will you?_

He sighed, frustrated. “Zelda-”

_For me?_

The request was soft. Gentle. Gentler than anything he’d heard or felt in weeks. He couldn’t help but grant it. Link’s head tilted back against the edge of the tub when he sat down. Gnarled roots were above him. Lights twisting and slithering like snakes.

The fog in his mind grew denser. Reality was off center.

_It’s incredible, you know. I look away for a few weeks and you’ve already traveled to all the Beasts again... Perhaps I should have expected as much._

Fond. Sarcastic. She really should’ve.

“What’s the Divine Beast here shaped like...?” he asked.

_That is a surprise._

Impish. Endearing, it was too endearing. Link smiled a bit and raised his Slate. “I need to put it in the pedestal, right?”

_Oh, not at all._

His smile turned into a frown. The Slate fell. It was too heavy to keep raised. “...The monk said I needed to.”

_Don’t you worry about that. I’ll tell you the proper way... Follow my instructions exactly, yes?_

Her tone was off. Tricksy. Maybe it was part of the surprise. He wasn’t sure, but he wanted to keep listening to her voice.

“Ok.”

_First, breathe._

He did. He was. It was hard: he’d been hit in the side by a Moblin in the Highlands. Breathing had been difficult since then. Though the scents of lavender and chamomile made him forget the pain. More false sensations. More products of his imagination. But, for once, he didn’t mind it.

_Now…_

Her voice was close now- as if they were under that tree again. Zelda’s back to his in tall grass, the girl whispering sweetly in his ear. Wind. Dappled sunlight. A melody fluttering from her chest. He could hear it. Feel it- smell the honeysuckle and lavender and chamomile.

_...close your eyes._

Link would do as she said, just barely catching sight of a Rito’s frame before dreaming of coarse hands messing his hair, five familiar faces bickering across a campfire, and a treasure of a girl walking exactly three paces ahead of him.

  


  



	25. Atlas: Part Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. I admit I got carried away with the deja vu this chapter.  
> 2\. I'm missing Zelda a lot ahaha, I can't wait to get to the epilogue for her  
> 3\. The wait was longer this time because I 100% got distracted posting a Hateno fic. Here's hoping I don't get the impulse to write another two shot instead of the actual finale.  
> 4\. As always, thanks for sticking with the story! I hope this introspective dump is worth the wait.

A beaten path.

A watchtower over the treetops.

A stick in his hand, trailing across the scattered flora and loose gravel.

A sigh escaped him and he took a cursory wipe at the sweat at his forehead. It’s what made that memory stick with him: the summer heat beating down even under the cover of a sunlight-spattered trail. Shielding his eyes from the blinding light above, he leaned to stare up at the man who, back then, seemed taller than the castle spires.

 _“How much longer?”_ A complaint. He hated the heat. Always burned his skin. He wouldn’t realize it was the Sheikah in him that made him so sensitive to it until a decade later.

His father glanced down with a pair of raised eyebrows. Dubious. Unbothered. He pointed farther down the path to a parting in the trees.

 _“See that stable up there? They’ll hook us up with a horse. Just a twenty-minute ride after that.”_ Link’s lip curled and his father’s hand swept over his hair. Light, but enough to leave a mess behind. _“Don’t worry, brat. We’ll take a break when we get there. I’ll buy you somethin’ cold.”_

His pace quickened, struggling to keep up with the man. _“Apple juice?”_

_“Yessir.”_

A toothy grin spread over his face- one or two probably missing in his young age.

_“How many’ll be there?”_

_“Fighters?”_

A nod.

_“...Somewhere around one hundred?”_

_“Who’ll win?”_

_“Dunno.”_

_“You’re gonna bet?”_

_“Damn straight.”_

_“Why would you do it if you don’t know who’ll win?”_

_“I’ll know when I see them.”_

_“How?”_

_“Instinct.”_

Link took a minute to absorb that- mulling it over as best he could. Cicadas filled the silence: a steady cadence beneath the sound of an ornate carriage rattling on by. It sparked a question; and he turned back to his father.

_“When are we going to the Plateau?”_

“I’m _going. You’re staying with Farland… if he can keep you in one_ place, _at least,”_ he muttered that last part, snippy. That man knew full well there was no hope in keeping his son in one place- nor would he deign to try any longer- but it hardly stopped him from mouthing a petty comment here and there. It hadn’t been that different from Rhoam and his own daughter. People tended to assume Link and Zelda had rubbed off on each other; yet looking back, they were already a pair of troublemakers to begin with, weren’t they?

_“I can’t come?”_

_“It’s a special trip.”_

_“It’s… uh… confadentul?”_

_“Confidential,”_ he corrected. _“I need to make sure someone important gets there safely.”_

_“Who?”_

His father let out a huff. _“Curious today, huh?”_

Link merely stared, doe-eyed and waiting for an explanation.

The man shook his head. _“Sorry, kid. Best you don’t know.”_

_“I can keep a secret.”_

_“Like you kept that_ possum _a secret?”_

 _“It needed a home, dad,”_ he defended, cutting at tall grass with his stick. It sliced those blades in half- pieces catching in the wind.

His father scoffed before his hand swiped over Link’s hair a second time. _“Our attic is not a_ home.”

His nose scrunched.

The man chortled in a derisive manner only to start grumbling to himself again, _“Weird animals. Can’t figure out where the_ Hell _you got that from.”_

Link went quiet, contemplating something as he stared at his sandals. They were almost at the stables by that point. Horses clopped here and there, a violin filtering from somewhere inside. He eyed the horses being led toward the pastures before yanking on his father’s sleeve.

 _“Can I have a horse?”_ he asked as they halted.

_“You can’t ride, kid.”_

_“I’ll learn. You said I always learn quick.”_

The man glowered down at him, stony. Link merely pouted up at him, hopeful. Hands were on his father’s hips. A finger tapped away at one of his belts. 

_“Please?”_

A mouth opened only to close. Something in his son’s face must have chipped at the stone in him, because he struck a deal:

_“Will it stop you from bringing nasty rodents into my house?”_

Three rapid nods. There was a loud sigh before hands flew up. _“...Ok,_ fine.” 

With that, the man trudged off, snapping his fingers and gesturing for Link to hurry up. He grinned and followed after the man: carefully hiding away in his shadow to escape from that awful heat. The sun flickered out of sight, shadow enveloped him, and torrid air evaporated into obscurity.

Some warmth remained. Plush cotton under his fingers- a myriad of sensations he’d almost forgotten. Others more familiar were slow to set in: that soreness, an ache in his limbs, and a tiredness that ran bone deep. However, like that torrid heat from his dreams, it’d been tempered by a kind of darkness.

Sleep.

Eyes opened.

Dim. He couldn’t see a thing. Cracks of light told him he was buried beneath something.

An arm shot out, swatting at whatever was covering him. Red pillows cascaded into the air and tumbled over wood floors. When he sat up, more of them rolled off his frame. Left then right then up. He knew this room. He knew those soft pillows- that desk in the corner. Its surface was hidden by a woman slumped over it, a head of white hair tucked away in her arms as she slept.

Paya.

Impa’s house. Not the Shrine of Resurrection.

The last place he wanted to be.

His eyes darted around the room more frantically now. Cold encroached over his skin, ebbing away the warmth those pillows and blankets had provided. A quick glance down told him most of his clothes were gone.

Another glance to the room told him there were no clothes in sight, nor his Slate, nor his sword. While he hadn’t a clue how he got there, it was quite clear Impa had robbed him right down to his underwear. At least she had the courtesy to leave that much.

Clear-headed for the first time in weeks, Link continued staring at himself- marveling at arms and legs that felt more like the stiff, rigid limbs of a body in rigor. Bruised from head to toe, the splotchy violet of cracked ribs smeared across his side. New stitches here and there. Gauze beneath bandages.

 _‘What are you doing?’_ Zelda asked in his memory.

He tore his eyes away to the white at his feet.

More pale dressings were snaking over the floor; and the aroma of salves and herbs hung heavy in the air amidst the scent of aged wood. They’d treated him. Of course they did.

Link sat there for several moments not knowing where to begin. How had he got there? What day was it? What time was it? How much progress had he lost? He squeezed his eyes, willing the fog out of his head. Paya. He should wake Paya and get answers.

Awkwardly, he opened his mouth- hesitating to say anything. “...P-” he fell into a coughing fit, his throat burning. Hoarse. His voice was hoarse. It hurt to speak.

Luckily, that was enough to wake her. The young woman shot awake with a gasp, turning halfway to look at him. Wide brown eyes. Wood grain a red imprint on her cheek.

“M-Master Link!” she scrambled to her feet, clambering toward him. When he tried to stand, her hands waved at him like she was trying to swat at invisible flies. “No, no! Please sit down, you’ll-”

He shook his head at her to convey it was fine; but Paya suddenly stamped her foot and screamed loud enough to rattle the windows:

_“I said sit back down!”_

He did so quickly the bed bounced. Both her hands were on her mouth, the young woman horrified at her own words. “I- I’m so sorry,” she squeaked and bowed her head. “Please, I ask that you don’t move yet.”

He wouldn’t move a muscle after that. There really was plenty of Impa in her, wasn’t there?

Without protest from him, she lifted her head and drew closer. Brown eyes swept over him as analytical as a physician- assessing Link without her usual demurity. He wondered if she had more of a hand in his treatment than simple guard duty.

Whatever she saw looked to relieve her. “How are you feeling?”

Link pointed to his throat, shaking his head. Paya strode back to her desk. Specifically, to the teapot simmering on top of it. Seconds later, he was staring at his reflection in a cup.

As pitiful as one would expect. It was gone as quickly as he could swallow it down.

He would answer her question with one of his own. “...Where are my things?”

Paya’s hands rose to her chin, fingers in knots. “I’m afraid that is… a question you will have to ask Grandmother.” Her dreadful tone raised several worries.

Link’s shoulders sagged knowing he was in for a long conversation- but he looked to all the fading bruises and salved cuts on his arms with a few quiet words, “Thanks... For all this.”

“...Of course,” she mumbled, her hands lowering.

Looking her in the eye was difficult.

It was all the opposite of what he’d wanted: becoming a bedridden burden.

A shiver cut his brooding short. Sighing, he managed to say, “Paya?”

“Yes?”

“Do you have my clothes?”

That reminder garnered the reaction he’d expected.

She blinked at him once before her composure went up like flashpaper. Hands flew to her eyes. “I- r- right ov-” she tried to point in a direction, but when the action required her to remove a hand, she choked and ran off. “I’ll grab them!”

He only listened to the rapid patter of feet as she darted toward one of the dressers- his gaze set on the doorway, thinking.

Link knew he couldn’t have been out for long: he was fast to heal. Fast to bounce back. One night was all he lost, he’d bet.

It was a simple plan he would concoct. Past Paya, figure out how he got there, and then past Impa. Convince them he’s fine- in proper shape. He’d thank them, maybe help with an errand or two to make himself useful, and then off he’d go.

The only question was how to get past the old gatekeeper that awaited him at the bottom of those stairs.

Folded clothes were placed next to him before Paya fled the room- the sound of hurried footfalls creaking and retreating to the lower level. Link stared down at the pile. Blue. A familiar tunic they’d taken out of his Slate.

Hadn’t worn it since Impa gave it to him after pulling the Sword. Couldn’t. Didn’t fit right in too many ways. He threw it aside and snatched up the brown shirt beneath it.

The farther down those steps he traipsed, the denser the air became. Maybe it was a figment of his imagination: the dread hanging in the air like a foul scent. He’d shake his head at his own anxieties. What was there to be afraid of? Hylia’s Champion against an old woman who happened to know him too well?

What was there to fear?

Plenty, he felt.

He stopped near the bottom of the stairs, a hand on the railing and eyes trained down on the hat obscuring that old woman’s visage. The hat swiveled, chains clinked, and one eye returned his wary gaze. Paya’s nervous face could be seen just above that straw lining: the young woman already kneeling to Impa’s right.

Impa slapped her knee. “Well, there you are. I am pleased to see you’ve awoken! Tell me, how are you feeling?”

Link exhaled through his nose, letting his eyes fall before he forced a smile and descended the rest of the way with a wave. “Drowsy.”

A chuckle. “I’m sure that’s the medicine wearing off, is all.”

When he came to a stop several feet in front of Impa, his focus locked onto the sword laying next to her tower of pillows. Its leather strap still clung to it; they must have carried it down without touching the scabbard.

No Slate though. Where could it be?

Hands moved to his hips. “Thanks for that.”

“We were happy to help,” she assured him before launching into a loosely disguised interrogation. “I admit I was quite frightened when I saw the state of you. Tell me, what on Earth happened?”

“Nothing besides the usual,” he shrugged, sheepish, and did his best to dance around the subject. “...Seems like I slept through the trip here- I must have been more tired than I thought to sleep a whole day like that.”

 _Sorry to have worried you,_ he apologized. _Just another dumb stunt. I won’t do it again._

Promises here and there intermingling with one excuse after the next. They looked to please her, ease the exasperation that was weighing down her features until she was rolling her eyes in good humor.

“How’d I get here?” he asked as the woman chortled at his stupidity. “Last I remember I was on the Plateau.”

“One of our scouts saw you there,” Impa supplied.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Paya take a sudden glance toward her grandmother. Whatever was behind it, he wasn’t fast enough to pick out.

“And what were you doing there, pray tell?”

“Trials. My last one is in the Shrine but-”

“...But what?”

“I dozed off before starting.”

Zelda better left out, he thought. Telling Impa divine intervention was what it took to get him to sit down? Not wise. It was embarrassing how easily he fell for that trap of hers anyway.

Impa sighed long and frustrated. The noise was rough. Grating- and his head started to hurt again. “I’ll show mercy for now since you’ve only just awoken; but I’ll be giving you a lecture later, I hope you already know. Please stay until you’re back on your feet, yes?”

A heartbeat passed before he looked to his feet, then back to Impa with a dumb grin. She sent him a foul glare.

“One week,” she insisted, “and then this old woman will have some peace of mind.”

“I appreciate it, Impa, but I’m fine.”

“Don’t be foolish. You’ve been working too hard.”

“I promise, I feel fine.” Her frown grew deeper. Link backpedaled. “I’m not going to leave _immediately._ I’ll take a day or two. How’s that?”

She kept frowning. Pinpricks in his gut. Anxious. He was anxious. Itching to get back out there. Something about those walls always disarmed him. The less he lingered the better: better to leave than sit there and play victim.

“What?” he laughed and shifted his weight- ignoring the sharp pain that came with it. Something wrong with his ankle, perhaps. It didn’t matter. “Do you need me to dance to prove it?”

A finger tapped at Impa’s knee like the steady tick of a clock. Soon enough, she would raise it and beckon him closer. “Just let me get a good look at you, hm?”

There was a breath of hesitation before he rocked forward. Carefully- as if he was approaching a dangerous animal. They were practically eye-level atop her stack of pillows; and that old woman squinted at him before her eyebrows raised.

“Hylia, it’s true you’ve got one shaped like a hoof!”

“Lynel,” he tapped at it, smiling. “Take it from me, you shouldn’t try to sneak up on them from behind.”

She continued to search him the same way Paya had evaluated him earlier. All sharp movements. Much to his relief, Impa’s face split into a grin to match his own. Bright enough to light up the room. He’d passed her inspection.

“Well, it does seem you are eager to get back to your trials… humor me one question, though, would you?” The dip in her tone didn’t match that grin. He didn’t like it.

Link’s own smile faltered. “Sure.”

“Robbie was the last of us to see you two months ago. He said you remembered details of the Calamity- is this true?” He nodded. Her brow knit to tangles. “Answer me honestly. Are you faring well?”

 _You’ve had trouble in the past,_ she remarked with askance. _Odd you never came this time. Odd no one has seen you for two months._

His face went glassy and he looked to the paper lanterns at the side of her platform. “...It’s hard- but I knew it couldn’t have been good. I guess none of it surprised me like before.” Truth peppered in. When he looked at her again, it was with a lighter expression- albeit far from happy. “So, I’m alright this time.”

Lies peppered in, too.

Impa sat back, breathing deep. He thought it was relief.

“I’m excited actually,” he added, fervent. “I’ve only got one trial left. Yeah, I was more reckless than usual, but I think it was worth it. I made great time- if I go soon, I could get to the castle by the end of the month. No more Guardians or blood moons. We could see _Zelda_ again, Impa.”

He didn’t remember his own death- but what was one memory left? She’d let that much slide, wouldn’t she?

“That _is_ exciting,” Impa agreed. There was a distance to her words. Maybe she was fantasizing about the possibilities herself. Maybe she was as drunk on the concept as he was.

Link smiled at that and leaned in, hands on hips. Words poured out of him without thought. “See? It doesn’t matter if I have _nightmares_ or a couple bruises! What’s the point in complaining about something that happened a century ago-”

As harsh as Polymus Mountain, Impa slapped him.

He stumbled to the right, the walls in his view. That bruise on his face screamed: a hoof no doubt the shape of an old woman’s hand now. Paya had shouted something; he couldn’t hear it over the flare of pain in his head and on his face. 

Seconds passed. Link took in a shuddering breath, his head still turned. Teeth grit, and anger started to advance where pain was receding. It was kept under control. Chained. When his face slid into lantern light again, he had a foul glare to match Impa’s.

 _‘Go on, explain yourself,’_ it said.

“A couple _bruises_ you say?” she snapped. The batty old woman he knew was gone, replaced with his red-eyed warden from a lifetime ago. “Paya, dear, please remind me what injuries this _halfwit_ was sporting when he was dumped on our doorstep?”

Paya was standing now, wringing her hands together so tightly Link wondered if she was trying to pry them off. Obedient as ever, she managed to rattle off the long list despite her panicking.

“Um, w-well- he- _you_ had fractured ribs, third and second degree burns along your left arm with another fractured wrist. Then third degree abrasions, a-about seven stitchings that needed to be redone-”

Hands curled into fists. She went on and on and on. Everything cracked. Everything broken, cut, burned, or scraped away. All the punishments he’d given himself laid bare- the pain he used to distract himself from his own thoughts. Impa’s gaze remained on him. Stewing. Pointed. This was nothing but another slap in the face.

“There may be more, but we had to wait until you were awake to-”

“That’s _enough,_ Paya,” as mild-mannered as his tone was, the young woman stepped away- shrinking into her corner.

Impa finally spoke up, her voice utterly lacking in patience. “Let me shed some light on the situation, hm?” There was a pause that falsely suggested she would wait for his approval. “You were not brought here by a scout, but a Rito who was lucky enough to catch sight of you on the Plateau.”

Kass. He’d appeared with Link amidst a storm of April showers and blue feathers: dumping him on the Sheikahs’ doorstep unconscious. They’d taken him in without question. Yet, much to his displeasure, the Rito had spilled every detail of his erratic behavior to their High Priestess.

She’d given him a chance to be honest. He certainly hadn’t taken it.

There was no more getting past the gatekeeper.

By the end of Impa’s story, he was pacing. If it weren’t for his missing Slate, he would have been gone by that point. Running seemed like a better option than anything else.

“Where’s my Slate?” he demanded after the woman delivered all her plaints.

She ignored his question, hands fisted into the fabric at her knees. Disbelief there. “To think, you would say something that could put you in such a state doesn’t _matter-”_

“No, Impa,” he threw his arms out, just as incredulous. “It _doesn’t.”_

“Clearly it’s _affected_ you-”

“I don’t care! It’s not a priority right now!” Link pointed in the general direction of the capital, shouting, “That _thing_ in the castle is a priority!”

Paya watched on as their conversation began to spiral, hollow and wide eyed.

“It absolutely is! Yet you seem to have forgotten that this behavior is what our princess has implored you not to engage in time and time again!”

The leash on his temper grew taut. “You think I’d behave like this if I had a _choice?”_

“There is always a choice!” the woman scoffed, flippant.

Link bristled further. “What else can I do, Impa?! The faster I get it done, the sooner I can rest!”

“You think killing a monster is going to solve your problems? Your nightmares?”

“Who knows? It might just solve one or two.” Mocking. “It’s what I’m made for, isn’t it?”

“I think you’ll find _talking_ will get you farther than more violence!” 

His head split at the seams. A hand moved to his face. “There’s nothing to talk about. _You_ should know that better than anyone else. You were at that castle!”

 _“Yes,_ you are correct. I know better than anyone else, which is why you should heed my words for once in your life, young man!”

He stopped moving as he took in the walls around him. They always disarmed him. It wasn’t a comfort like before. The chamomile smelled rotten.

“Right,” he drawled, lazy. A mask already loose and knocked out of place by that slap was splintering off. “I get it. Which one do you want to hear about first? The Champions? How my father and all the people who raised me were murdered by the thing that’s maybe a month from killing _her,_ too? All the Yiga I left on the roadside as Guardian bait?” 

His voice rose from that lofty tone into something coarse and angry, “What about when Zelda broke down in the middle of the woods saying it was all her fault and I couldn’t even tell her neither of us were _failures?”_

Where was it- where was the point that she fell and the two of them were barely enough to tether each other to their sanity anymore? Less than a mile into that forest, wasn’t it?

(Green eyes there turned up even against the rain pelting on them. Not the eyes he knew. No fight left behind them.

_“I left them… all to die.”_

It was a shift in blame that should have stayed where it belonged: with a monster. Not a girl who never had control over her life to begin with.

He’d only been able to watch as her face contorted, twisting with grief and fraught before it was hidden against his chest. Despite everything, he let her stay. There was little else he could do besides stare past her shoulder, press his cheek against damp hair, and keep watch for lights through the tree line.

Zelda lifted an arm to cling to him and rose higher- burrowing into his neck. 

_“What’s the point of running...?”_ a string of doubtful whispers in the midst of her crying, the two of them limp against each other. _“I can’t deserve to after this.”_

The words of a girl trying to make peace with an approaching death he couldn’t. Her breath on his skin. Cold.

 _“You deserve to,”_ Link replied. Not a hint of doubt there. 

Her voice cracked to pieces and it broke something in him, too, _“I failed.”_

_“We all failed, Zelda.”_

_“It won’t stop chasing us. Never.”_

_“We can think of something when we get past the fort.”_

_“You can get there faster without me,”_ she said.

_“Don’t.”_

_“I’m dead weight, Link,”_ Zelda’s tone was hollowed out. Scraped raw. _“I can’t go much farther.”_

He moved back, palms on either side of her face. Dead. She looked dead already. 

_“Please,”_ she begged.

Spikes through him. _“Zelda-”_ his own voice splintered, _“Zelda, stop.”_ He moved hair out of her face just like he’d always done. Hands shaking. _“You know there’s no chance I’ll leave.”_

The girl had smiled at him, her mouth quivering and her face nestling further into his touch. _“I know…”_ she murmured, more despairing than relieved. _“But I couldn’t forgive myself if I didn’t try.”_

 _‘How did it come to this?’_ she’d asked when she fell.

Link found himself asking the same question.

Exhaling, he leaned forward and kissed her: stealing away whatever strength he could. She leaned in to him, searching for the same, perhaps. Salt and soot and rain on her lips.

 _“Do you remember what I said? That it’s easier with you?”_ he asked when he pulled away. Zelda nodded, slow and dazed. _“Then you know I need you here if I’m going to make it. Otherwise I won’t be strong enough.”_

If not for yourself, then for me. _Please._

Tears welled up and she placed her forehead against his. He soaked it in, the faint warmth that told him she was still there. A moment of reprieve. Gathering the pieces. Several heartbeats of quiet passed before her grip on his sleeves tightened and she choked out:

 _“Let’s go.”_

Lights flickered in the smog. Only a matter of time. He doubted he’d ever made peace with it.)

“...What’s there to talk about?” Link asked again when silence fell in the wake of his outburst.

 _Where could I even begin?_

His old mentor leaned back, fingers sliding away from her knees and tying together at her lap. “Do you remember your death?”

The last thing he wanted was more questions; he bit out an answer anyway, “No.”

It’d stopped near the Dueling Peaks: the both of them sprinting through that vast passage. An approaching wall of spiders were at their backs and then nothing more.

Impa took a moment to put her thoughts to order. When she spoke, her tone was far gentler than it’d been. “That tunic you won’t wear… it had to be done from scratch. There was no saving the original.” The distance in her voice returned, and her eyes flicked over his shoulder as she seemed to recall an old memory. “When she arrived with it in hand, it was nothing but bloodied and mud soaked rags, you see. Not a _hint_ of blue left.”

According to that aging woman, Zelda had appeared in the dead of night dripping rain water on the threshold of their house. All the pieces of him were in her clutches- his sword strapped to her back and that tattered garment cradled against her chest. Alone. Not a single escort in tow.

 _She had a gaze like yours. Stoic. Something burning beneath it all,_ Impa marveled.

Zelda had clung to it, never once putting it down until she opened the door and left- never to return. Alone again, refusing any escort that wasn’t the owner of that cloth.

“You don’t know the fear I felt, seeing her with it. I was certain you’d perished in that moment.” Impa dragged in a long breath. Her words were just as unsteady. “I relived that nightmare when your friend came and laid you at the bottom of those steps.”

Link stood there, empty-eyed and arms at his sides when she finally looked back to him. “It may not _matter_ to you, but it does to the people who love you... I’m sure it matters to her, as well.”

_‘What are you doing?’_

She’d hated to see him dented and battered, hadn’t she?

It still hurt to breathe.

“You ask what there is to talk about, yes?” Impa broached, imploring. _“All of it,_ Link.”

He absorbed her hopeful stare and Paya’s unsettled frown- neither even breathing. He felt cornered. Something in him turned to stone and Link raked a hand through his hair, eyes shut. 

“You’re right,” he conceded, “but nothing will make me feel better more than having her out of that castle.”

Something looked to turn to stone in Impa, too. After some time, she relented, “...Very well. Come back when you are ready to talk.”

His attention fell to the sword at her side and the keepsake that was missing. “...Where’s my Slate?”

“Safe.”

It snapped back to her. “Impa, I need my things.”

“We have everything you’d need here.”

_“Impa.”_

The woman’s chin raised, undebatable. “You said you would stay for a few days, did you not? I will be sure to return it then.”

His eyes twitched before his head swiveled to Paya. She practically flinched. “Paya, where is it?”

“I- I don’t know,” she squealed. 

Her grandmother chuckled. “It’s best we didn’t tell her. Bless her, but the only secret she’s good at keeping is what’s on her rear.”

_“Grandmother!”_

Link’s patience was running thin as a wire. Impa merely shrugged, unperturbed. “You are welcome to search the house if you like.” She wagged a finger and taunted him, “I’ll give you a hint to make it fair: _it’s closer than you think.”_

With a murderous scowl, he marched forward, reached down, and snatched up his sword.

 _“Damn old kook,”_ he snarled before turning and storming out of the house like he was sixteen all over again.

  


* * *

  


Link sat on a log post, boiling right alongside a pot of water.

It was the most productive thing he could think of after finding himself standing outside at what he found out to be seven in the morning.

A small shadow appeared behind him: short and stout.

“...Hi, Koko,” he grumbled, chin in hand.

“Good morning!” she crowed, and skipped in front of him only to recoil. “Wow! You look _bad!”_

He resisted the temptation to glare at a child. Though, his smile left some warmth to be desired. “Aw, _thanks,_ Kiddo.”

“That wasn’t a compliment.”

“Could’ve sworn it was.” He quickly directed the subject to the basket in her hands, “Do you need the pot?”

“I can wait until you’re done cookin’ your… apples?” she checked the row of statues outside Impa’s house. Three red fruits were missing. “Those are for the Goddess, you know.”

Much to his surprise, it seemed like the girl finally caught on to personal pronouns. Maybe it took Sidon until he was nine, too.

“She doesn’t like apples,” he justified. 

It was true. That _‘goddess’_ would pick them out of any meal and toss it to the nearest stable dog. Something about the texture, she’d said.

“Oh. They’re not really filling anyway.” Koko accepted that answer surprisingly easily and opened her basket. She presented a bottle of milk to him. “Help me cook! I’ll share.”

Better than watching water boil.

Pumpkin stew. Stirring that while Koko bundled wheat reminded him it’d been weeks since he’d cooked a meal. Nearly three months, actually. Something in him churned. It felt odd- normalcy, that is. He never lingered in towns for too long for that reason. A house he owned in Hateno sat collecting dust, the thing bought only to preserve the home his father had grown up in.

Link had assumed it was the next best thing, really, with his own childhood home gone.

_‘If it ever gets to you, just… come home for a bit.’_

He had. Nothing left. Not a trace of it: just a tangle of overgrown vines and weeds where it once stood. It was hardly a shock. The thing was made almost entirely of wood. Easily flammable. Thin walls, too. It was to be expected. It was.

Yet there he’d stood in the frigid wind, staring at a mound of weeds for an hour.

...Link hadn’t a clue what else he’d expected.

“There!” his fellow chef chirped, putting their leftovers into a container. “I have breakfast for Papa and Cottla when they wake up.”

“You’re too responsible for a kid, you know,” he mused before downing the remains of his bowl. “...I think you cook better than me.”

She beamed. “You think?”

“Definitely. Best cook I’ve ever met.”

“Come back for dinner! I’ll teach you.”

It was a demand with no room for argument. So, Link swore to return and the girl promptly gave him a shopping list. Herbs. Good, he could dig around in the woods for those instead of begging Impa to return some of his money to him.

He’d have to find that Slate. If not to get his things back, then to prevent her from sticking her nose too deep into it. Link doubted he’d be able to explain half the things in there- namely that green jumpsuit.

He also needed it more than Impa understood.

Goodbyes were exchanged and he and Koko parted ways. Still feeling gloomy, Link shoved off to the one place in Kakariko he knew there wouldn’t be any people to bother him. However, he only made it halfway there before he heard the rhythm of small feet trotting after him.

“...Did you think of something else, Koko?” he asked the tiny Sheikah dogging his heels.

Her head shook. “Don’t you remember? Koko visits momma every morning. What are you doing?”

Koko. His mouth quirked into a small grin. Old habits die hard, don’t they?

“I’m-” Link paused when the fortuity occurred to him, “...visiting my mom, too.”

“Ohh!” She opened that basket again and took out a wad of flowers. “Here, take some for yours.”

Amouranths. He would accept them without question. Something told him sharing was what made that girl most content.

She skipped ahead and over grass that was vibrant green after the rain. Looking past her, the tree at their path’s end sat in full bloom now: flower petals and the remnants of Springtime flora drifting through the ravine. It carried fresh air: a pleasant change from the smell of dead grass and frozen dirt that hung so stagnant in the Winter.

Link yawned.

He’d grown tired again; it was all just like the memories that had baited him to sleep on the Plateau.

Koko knelt in prayer as he sat cross legged and inspected the headstones. Her mother’s grave was newer- possessing a defined shape his mother’s didn’t. It was a good thing he’d gone and found it all those years ago; the inscription was practically unreadable after a century. By all accounts it should have been half-buried in the dirt; yet it sat straight and proper. It was clear Impa saw to it that it would still be there for him even though she never said it outright.

A little of the stone in him chipped off. He sighed. 

“What was your mom like?”

A pair of brown eyes were searching for an answer. He didn’t have much of one. 

“She died when I was too young to remember her.” Koko’s gaze fell. Disappointment, maybe. He rambled a little more. “My dad told me she was quiet, but was pretty blunt whenever she spoke. And… she always put on a brave face even though she scared really easy.”

“Anything else?”

“Not much. Nobody else knew her well and my dad didn’t like talking about her.”

“My dad doesn’t like it either.” She sat back and crossed her legs to mimic him, fiddling with the grass. “...It makes me worried.”

“You think he’s sad?” he questioned, craning his neck to stare at a blue sky.

“Yes... He always says he’s fine, but I know there’s a lot he’s hiding.”

 _I’m hiding a lot, too,_ she mumbled. _That’s how I know._

More of the stone in him chipped away.

This seemed above his paygrade. Link’s mouth went flat as he stared at the child next to him. She looked ready to cry. Floundering, he managed to blurt:

“You want to help him, right?” Brown was on him with a nod. Doe-eyed and expectant. Just like him all those years ago. He bent over until he was a little more eye level. “You should let him spoil you more. Mine always did, and I know it made him feel better.”

“Ok.”

“Huh?” he laughed, bewildered. “You believe me that easy?”

“You do things for people a lot and you seem happy doing it.”

Link couldn’t refute that.

Koko would take his word for it. That little girl nodded more to herself than him, and adjusted those amouranths to look a little more prim.

She checked the ever rising sun before hopping to her feet. “Koko needs to go now- remember dinner!”

Somewhat mystified, Link waved his unlikely companion goodbye as she ran off to deliver her soup. He watched her small frame vanish beneath the archways and ruminated over the revelation that Kakariko was a town of altruists. Was it genetic? That obsession of theirs.

His mother’s grave sat quaintly in front of him; and that decrepit hunk of stone reflected something strange back at him. Maybe this was all yet another thing his mother had left planted in him. He’d spent half his life convinced that selfishness was what came more naturally to him- that it was the realist version of him.

But, it may not have been true; and looking back with that perspective, he could just about pick out the moment his father had seen that in him. It might’ve been what convinced the man to give Link the one real thing he didn’t want to, after all.

Bothered by too many thoughts, he extended an arm to swipe at all the grime on his mother’s grave. It was plastered on there. Frustration spiked and dirt shifted- but not from stone. His head jerked to see a familiar young woman nearly dropping her things in shock.

“...Hi, Paya,” he offered an exasperated greeting at her mousy pattering. 

His tone was amiable enough that she dared to approach. “H-hello.” She held out a coarse brush from a bucket of tools, inquiring, “...Do you want to clean it?”

The brush was in his hand the next second.

Weeds would tear, ripped from the earth.

They worked in silence. Thoughts scraped by in his head with every stroke of that brush; but unlike that headstone, his mind only grew messier. Even well-rested he barely had a shred of control over them. Lost. He was lost on how to calm himself.

He feared what the night had in store for him; Zelda wouldn’t be there to chase it all away again.

In an unexpected turn of events, Paya was the first to breach the surface of that quiet.

“Did you ever figure it out?” her voice was faint, a wisp in the wind. “...Why you were the only child in the colosseum?”

He yanked out the last weed and threw it over the railing.

“Sure did,” he admitted when it cascaded out of view. "Remember I guessed I was a regular fighter there? Turns out it was only once."

Standing, he peered between the gravestones where Paya’s curious frown could be seen. Where oh where to begin?

“...My dad had a habit of giving me whatever I wanted as long as it wasn’t a wild animal or anything explosive.”

“You say that as if you asked for them,” she gawked.

Link’s smile was more a wince than anything else. “I might’ve. Wild animals were always a hard no but he did almost bend on the barrels.”

“Goddess, he _was_ terrible.”

“Yep,” he looked back to the azure-tinted landscape. “It was so rare for him to refuse that I got upset when he wouldn’t agree to make me a page... I thought it was because he didn’t think I was strong enough to be a knight, so I snuck my way into a tournament to prove him wrong.”

(It was his first visit there. To that colosseum.

As expected, several of his father’s company were there cheering away whilst the smallest of them stood on a railing, arms slung over the top as he observed the fights below. Some of the battles were personal: disgruntled men of high status taking blows at each other in-between the major competitions. It was hard to watch; sunlight refracting off all the gaudy adornments on their armor made it painful to stare for too long.

One man's sword shattered to pieces with a piercing crack. The crowd erupted when he was sent tumbling backwards by a flying spear. It was a roar in his ears that shook stone.

Although Link never enjoyed being around too many people, he’d been calmer than usual thanks to those grand matches in the pit drawing the crowd's full attention. His own was directed behind him when someone cursed over his shoulder. His parent's brassy laughter was quick to follow.

 _"What'd I tell you about Necludan swords, Beck?"_ the man chided one of his younger friends.

 _"Oh, give it a rest. He was fit enough to win!"_ he retorted.

A scoff. _"It doesn't matter how good his cardio is, that thing was going to break before he even got three swipes in."_

_"So what? If you're fast enough you don't need a weapon."_

_"Wow, you're right! I forgot it's easy to outrun a_ Tabanthan _with a javelin!"_ A comment dripping with sarcasm.

 _"Someone's in a mood,"_ Farland piped up. He gestured to the losing fighter currently shuffling out of the pit before his father could refute that. _"Quit bullying our rookie just because you're mad they won't let you bet. Poor kid's already lost three hundred rupees."_

Link watched them bicker, cheek squashed against the arm he had slung over the railing he balanced on. His father's claim that he could sniff out any winner was proving to be true; but sadly, it also proved to be useless that day. The moment they'd arrived the man discovered he'd been banned from several betting pools for winning too often. It left him grousing under his breath and pouting on the benches- much to the amusement of his fellow imperial men.

 _“Why don’t you throw yourself in there? Who knows-_ you _might just outrun his javelin,”_ one of them elbowed him.

Laughter from the group and rolling eyes from his father. It was a gibe, of course. He’d been forbidden from entering in recreational matches by the time he was a teenager.

Too strong a fighter. Too sharp a better. As with Link’s penchant for recklessness and vanishing at any given moment, they were more traits which appeared to be passed down through blood; much to his father’s would-be misfortune, stubbornness was mixed into that disastrous batch.

It was when Link tuned out the mens' debating that he spied a gaggle of teenage boys arriving for the main event. It was for pages looking to graduate into squirehood. While it wasn’t nearly as anticipated as the Summer Solstice’s tournament, the sheer amount of participants guaranteed that plenty would still attend. The challenge was far easier in comparison as well: any of the one hundred pages left standing after the five minute mark would pass. He squinted, nose scrunching. The sight of those boys reminded Link of his and his father's most current spat.

 _“You’re not fit for it,”_ was the lazy excuse his father had made when his son last complained at him over a dinner table. _“Who’d want to be a knight anyway?”_

Not _fit?_ he'd gawped. How could he not be fit for battling monsters? He could accomplish more with a large stick than a platoon of men with a cannon and sharp tools, something which had been proven the last time Mabe Village had a run in with rogue Bokoblins.

Needless to say, his father's neglect to specify that maturity had been the subject of reference turned out to backfire quite spectacularly that day.

Thus, having a point to make, Link evaluated those unsuspecting teenagers and swung off his perch: a wolf barely four feet tall out for prey. It was years later during the squire’s tourney that a man accused him of stealing one of the imperial guardsman's emblems. Honestly, that was a fairer suspicion than most would guess.

It was plenty easy to swipe one away when his parent's half-drunken friends were shouting at the competitors below. Off one’s belt and down the stairs he went, slipping into the tunnels with minimal effort.

The sheer amount of authority those medallions commanded was something to marvel at. All it took to make his way into that sandy pit was finding an adjudicate by the gates, brandishing his emblem, and being handed a sword. Minutes later, a horn blared and Link swung his weapon until it splintered to pieces- outrunning each and every javelin that was thrown his way.)

“By the time the bell went off, I’d forced so many to tap out that maybe only… fifteen of them made it past?” Link tried to remember the details as best he could; yet there was little he could provide regarding the end of that visit. At least, little besides the striking image of his father waiting in the fighters' passage with crossed arms and a tapping foot.

It's what made that memory stick with him: the fury in his father's glare clear as day even under the cover of a shadowed tunnel.

“Was he angry with you?” Paya questioned.

 _“Yep,”_ he repeated, droning. “It was the angriest I ever saw him… the only reason all the royal guards there didn’t get in trouble with the king was because of the helmets they gave us. Kept anyone from seeing my face when my father sent linesmen to drag me out.”

The other imperial knights had blatantly enjoyed the show; but despite that, they made no effort to joke about it. Hindsight hinted to Link that plenty of them might have been aware of his father’s past: all the unspoken nuances as to why he tried to prevent his son from following in his footsteps.

A cycle to break, but another son to live vicariously through all the same.

They’d gone home immediately, Link tugged away by his wrist and suddenly grasping the consequences of what he’d done.

Back then, his father couldn’t muster the words to explain the roots of his own anger to his son, nor all the weeds which had spawned from a lifetime of suffocating expectations and violent punishments. Link sympathized with him now more than ever.

Where could the man have even begun? 

Paya joined him near the railing. Her fingers drummed across it. A nervous habit- those hands of hers always moving one way or another. They curled around the wood when she spoke, “What made him change his mind, if- if you don’t mind me asking?”

Link deliberated the answer to that. “...I’m not sure. He might’ve realized I wasn’t messing around.”

 _He might’ve realized that it suited me better than it ever did him,_ he would say.

(His father’s scabbard clattered onto the table as Link was commanded to sit on one of its chairs. The door still swung on its hinges; sweltering heat seeped into the house. Plenty came from the man fuming in front of him.

 _“How many times?”_ he demanded. _“How many times do I have to tell you no?”_

Link sat ramrod straight, watching him pace circles in their small kitchen.

 _“Why won’t you let me?”_ he’d been genuinely confused by his constant refusals. The barrels and animals he could understand. Not this.

 _“Why do_ you _want to be one?! You could do a_ million _other things! Being a knight isn’t like these damn storybooks!”_

He took one of them from a stack on the table and dumped it in front of Link. The thing flapped open. Pages worn. Tattered from use. When he looked back to his father, he shrunk, insulted and timid at the same time. _“I know…”_

The man came to a halt, hands on his hips. _“Then what is this?”_

_“...I just want to.”_

_“Do better than that.”_

Legs kicked as Link desperately searched for words. It wasn’t like the stories, he knew- yet something in him felt ripped straight from their pages.

_“You said you have to make sure someone gets to the Plateau safe.”_

The change in subject left him open mouthed. _“And?”_

_“I wanna do that.”_

_“Kid, I’m begging you to explain yourself.”_

Link huffed. Even as an idealistic child, it was embarrassing to admit, _“I want to help.”_

_“What?”_

He huffed even louder and hopped off the chair. _“All the time you go out and fight monsters! I’ve seen it. You help a bunch of people- I want to do that too!”_

His father’s arms raised and fell- the man seemingly incapable of following that reasoning of his. _“Why would you want to do that?”_

It was thankless, he’d gone on to warn. No praise, either. Nothing anybody would want.

They stared at each other. Link frowned in a way that conveyed he was incapable of following that reasoning of his.

That hardly mattered, did it?

 _“I mean… if I can help, that’s good enough, isn’t it?”_ He shifted from one foot to the other, struggling. He’d never been good at words; all he could force were ones he’d already managed, _“...I just... want to.”_

The man looked adrift after that.

Cicadas outside. Bird song and wind sweeping in from an open door. It fluttered the pages of his books, drawing his father’s attention to them. His eyes lingered there before drifting over to his own sword.

Link had no hope of identifying whatever flitted over the man’s face before he dragged air into his lungs, sat down, and bent on the matter.)

“He told me I was a pushover, but had me enlisted anyway.” Link’s elbows were on the fence, his muddy hands dangling over the edge. “After I did four years as a knight I’d qualify to go out with the seasonal monster patrols. But this thing-” he flicked at the sword on his back, “-changed everything.”

Through all his rambling, he told Paya the Sword let him go out and follow that dream early- but the glory and expectations that came with it only served to leave him disillusioned. Anonymity was what he’d wanted. Freedom over recognition.

In the end, his own reflection got twisted into someone crass and selfish just to get by. When he finally adapted to all the change, it’d been so late in the game it hardly mattered.

“It’s funny,” he grinned, the bitterness surging all over again. “Helping people on the roadside is all I’ve done since waking up... Turns out all that needed to happen for me to live out that dream was for the world to end.”

“I’m sorry...” she said, hushed.

Link stared blankly at the horizon. “It’s spilt milk.”

In his peripheral, Paya’s hands slid off the railing. She picked up her bucket of tools without a word; and he assumed that would be the end of their talking until she stayed put. When he turned, she was studying him. Pensive. Sobered.

“It’s more than milk,” she muttered. Her eyes darted away before he could send her a questioning look. “You know Grandmother will keep you here for as long as it takes.”

“Probably.”

“Then… then why not? For the sake of time.” His jaw locked shut. When he didn’t reply, she looked at him again. Upset. A scrap of anger in there. “Do you fear being a burden?”

“I have a lot of reasons-”

“So I’m right!” Tools rattled when she stepped forward.

Link gaped at her. She still didn’t back down; for once, Paya wasn’t shrinking away from him, but challenging him. There was some wonder and puzzlement in that. 

...It was _weird._

Eventually, he recovered. “I can do this on my own, Paya. I can’t let any of you baby me.”

Cheeks puffed. She looked like a hamster. “You’re prideful then.”

He barked a laugh that made his ribs burn. Once, maybe. No longer after making so many mistakes.

“I have a responsibility,” he argued, jabbing a thumb at the Sword on his back, “to _this.”_

Too many years had been spent running; there were amends to be made. Oaths to keep. Weakness was a luxury he couldn’t afford so close to the end. His anger wouldn’t allow it, either- the sooner it was dead the sooner he could rest.

 _‘I’ll keep going,’_ he’d told _her,_ too.

 _‘What are you doing?’_ she’d asked all those months later.

Wasn’t it obvious? What he promised.

“It’s what I was made for,” Link asserted. 

Brown flicked from blue to violet. Something welled up in her and forced its way out of her mouth, “Your father was right about one thing: you are a pushover to that sword!”

His mouth hung ever so slightly, taken aback.

“You are a person, not a weapon,” she elaborated, and pointed past his shoulder to a golden gem. _“That_ is what belongs on a pedestal, not you.”

Hardly letting up on her momentum, Paya let her last bout of courage carry her through one final piece:

“You are Sheikah, as well. You may not have been born here, but this- this is your home, too, so why don’t you just let us help?!” Her voice echoed into the valley below. She went rigid at the sound, horrified by her tone for a second time that day. A few figurative steps back were quickly taken, “A-at- at least _use the problem journal!”_

With that, she spun like a top and sprinted off with her bucket of noisy tools, leaving him dumbfounded.

“...A pedestal,” he echoed, listless. Link slanted his head to look at the Sword’s pommel. A handle with green etchings glimmering there. His eyes fell to greener grass. Just dirt beneath his boots: not a single gilded platform in sight. A mirthful breath escaped him.

Him of all people, putting himself on a pedestal?

Link’s reflection twisted on itself again.

Stone was crumbling. Not much left of it.

  


* * *

  


A small girl waved at him from atop a set of stairs, and a door opened and closed in her wake. 

Link had made sure Koko and her latest concoction made it home safely before ambling off to Kakariko’s center.

Save for a cuckoo he scooped up along the way, the town was even quieter than usual.

Fireflies rose where the sun fell: embers in the night floating past his head into a starlight splattered expanse. His gaze traveled back down to the house looming high above him- down to warped stairs and gnarled wood. Link wordlessly handed Cado his lost cuckoo and climbed those steps, all that creaking audible even against the waterfalls rushing just ahead.

A lantern-lit den awaited him: its patient resident exactly where he’d left her. Impa startled, snapping awake at the opening doors. Medallions swayed as she shook away the drowsiness.

“Oh, welcome back,” that old woman crooned as if they hadn’t just been shouting at each other that morning. “How was your day?”

Link’s answer was flat as a brick: 

“Koko called me ugly and Paya yelled at me.”

Impa guffawed so loud she almost fell off her perch. Well, at least one of them thought it was funny. Not bothering to elaborate further, he maneuvered through the shadows, careful to avoid the pools of light cast by those lanterns.

She eyed him with suspicion. “What brings you back? I thought for sure you would spend the night in the woods.”

It was still under heavy consideration.

“...The Slate.”

Her head lowered and shook with disappointment. “I cannot allow that.”

“I won’t run away.”

_“Link-”_

“Please,” the layer of desperation in his voice wasn’t disguised well- but his words were honest, “I just want her Slate back.”

That blasted away the stone in her.

Taking a risk in sentiment, Impa wilted and stood. His shoulders relaxed, happy he didn’t have to fight for it. But, that was replaced with confusion when the old woman grinned, missing a tooth or two, and hopped off her throne like a Yiga for a banana.

Was it a loose floorboard she had it hidden under? Tied beneath one of the stairs? He looked to the rafters, wondering if she’d pitched it up there.

An old bat snickered at all his fruitless theorizing before her arm shot out to yank away the top cushion of her stack, revealing a hunk of slate. It flickered like it was gasping for air. 

“I swear I’m gonna tell Purah,” Link threatened. 

Her response to that was to cackle like a mad witch. _“Genius,_ isn’t it?!” She frisbeed the thing at him. He caught it with one hand, curling a lip as she continued, “A young man like you would _never_ go near an old woman’s backside!” 

He held the thing away from him, the Slate dangling.

“Actually, I’m good without this.”

There was more cackling before she hopped deftly onto her royal seat. She looked all too pleased with herself. Three years and he still hadn’t figured out how someone so strict could turn out quite like this.

The amusement would die and the density return.

“Well,” Impa said with a hint of worry, “if you’re going to run off, now is the time.”

He wouldn’t. 

Exhausted, Link shuffled over to his usual corner and sat down. He held the Slate with both hands, peering into a black screen. Frowning. Troubled.

Something dawned on that old woman- a simple truth she had been blind to until seeing him mope beneath those windows. A sympathetic noise dispelled the quiet. Her careful words were barely loud enough to hold the torch.

“All this rushing… because you miss her.”

“There’s a lot of reasons, Impa.” Not a denial.

People on the roads needed to be kept safer, the dead needed justice, and princesses needed to be saved. There was worth that needed to be proved, too, he thought.

When did things get so backwards?

His head thumped against the wall, eyes shut and face pulled into a grimace. Pain behind his eyes.

“Are you tired?”

“...Yes.”

“Perhaps… you should retire for the night, then?”

“Not yet,” he mumbled. Better not to sleep; his mind was still a hiss of activity. 

Link waited for some sort of insistence; but Impa had nothing to say to that. It appeared the old woman would let him do as he pleased. She’d chosen honey over vinegar now: wise enough to acknowledge arguing hadn’t and wouldn’t get them any farther. Not that either of them had the energy for it that night anyway.

A finger tapped at the Slate. His hands were bare. No gloves, no gear, no armor. That made him feel just as vulnerable as this room. Link’s hand swept over etchings and ridges he'd long since memorized. It was a strange personal ritual that helped in its own way; but like letters, it wasn't enough to sate the loneliness in him. Not completely. He looked up from this reflection to Impa across the way with some uncertainty. Hunting down traces of Zelda was another source of comfort. Without any pictures left to chase, he suspected he had no choice but to search the memories of others for those breadcrumbs he was so desperate for.

That made Impa nothing if not his most valuable witness.

“You said she came here?” Link prodded.

The old Sheikah would humor him.

“Yes... Just after you fell,” she took a breath, calling upon the memory. “She hadn’t slept in two nights, yet her eyes were sharp as a razor when she threw those doors open.”

 _The wind after her had put out our lanterns,_ she said with wonder. Her hand swiped at the empty air, mimicking that memory. _One flick of her wrist had them relit._

Zelda came with a long list of instructions: orders to be carried out in preparation for the end of a slumber that had yet to even begin. Faithful as ever to the mark burned onto her right hand, they obeyed.

Thus, it was at her behest that Impa delivered the Slate to Robbie and Purah whilst the other Sheikah scattered across Hyrule’s burning fields. It left Kakariko’s population thin, yet their net cast over every inch of the country.

According to Impa, rebuilding Hyrule during her absence was not the real task their princess bestowed upon them; it was surviving.

 _Wade through the fire, let the Beasts lie, and live through the night,_ she’d implored to those left. Little more.

It was a role not unlike the Vures’: to be silent keepers.

Impa gazed at the center of that room as if it’d all happened yesterday. “That visit of hers hardly lasted an hour; but the presence she carried had put a spell on us all... It appeared as though something in her had snapped right into place.”

Link remembered that forest she’d fallen in, the look in her eyes, and wondered where the strength came from.

He needed some of it, he thought.

Somehow, Impa always knew when he didn’t have any conversation left in him. It took one glance at his contemplative features for her to send him off to bed:

“I say that is enough for tonight. I’m sure you’re plenty tired.”

The room upstairs was his. Paya would stay elsewhere and Impa downstairs. He wanted to object; yet the old woman was dead set upon proving she had neither a problem with sleeping atop her throne of cotton, nor the intent to give him an opportunity to protest. By the time he opened his mouth, she’d said something along the lines of _‘good night’,_ and dozed off as fast as a candlewick against a harsh breeze.

Seeing that, Link felt a surge of jealousy and bafflement.

How on Earth does she do that on command?

Perhaps he would have stayed there pondering that question, but her snoring was loud enough to chase him upstairs and back to an overflowing mound of pillows. The Sword thudded against the floor when he collapsed into that mountain of cotton. An arm dangled and fingers grazed cool steel- the ethereal metal that blade was forged out of.

No warmth to it. A sign that no real or tangible danger was lurking nearby. Both good and bad. He still itched to get back out there.

It was easy for lethargy to encroach upon and dull his senses. It’d already been an ever-present weight in his limbs: dragging him down to the earth better than gravity ever could. As such, sleep took him faster than before- surrounded by more security than the night air and a fire in a cave.

Different. As with his surroundings, it was different this time- those dreams he feared.

No violence. No suffering. No death. No real or tangible danger lurking nearby.

Petals weightless above. Silent Princesses swaying below. A bed of stone and a familiar sword glinting in the night. He was there to take it. He always was.

 _“Go on, then,”_ an old spirit urged. Koroks watched on, indistinguishable from the flora. _“You need it, don’t you?”_

Right, he did. Better not to hesitate.

Link stepped forward, reaching out to grab the handle. Another lifted, wrapping around it, and he pulled.

It didn’t budge.

Fear gripped him, his heart sank, and Link sat up with a painful gasp. Pillows fell. Wood and metal scraped when his hand shot out, dragging the sword off the floor. Link held it tightly- flush against his chest. He waited on baited breath for any sensation that may have told him it wasn’t his to bear any longer.

He felt only the cold sweat on his skin. It made him feel foolish.

Fed up with it all, he opened the Slate. Its clock told him that he’d managed to sleep several hours.

Good enough.

Choosing to retreat from the whims of his mind, he stood, bathed his limbs in a flash of blue light, and descended the stairs in his usual red tunic. Dust on the steps, shifting beneath his boots. Impa was still there when he paused midway- once again hidden beneath that hat of hers. The tilt of it suggested she hadn’t been woken by his footfalls.

A walk, he decided as he limped past the old woman’s weary frame. He’d go on a walk: stalk the fireflies, maybe steal another apple from the offering baskets. Whatever he could to occupy himself until dawn.

Something would catch his eye before he could make it to those doors.

The painting that had been there from the beginning. Link’s eyes wandered over it, searching it for whatever it was that had always unsettled him. Running a hand over the surface, it seemed older than he was- although it hadn’t been there when he and Zelda visited a century ago.

A field of broken Guardians. It was an odd choice in decor; Impa was never a fan of the technology- even before the collapse. What could possess her with the desire to stare at those ghostly machinations day in and day out? Something was trying to connect itself in his mind.

So many in one place.

Where had he seen that many before?

He had an idea.

Link checked the priestess slouched behind him. The sight of her stoked shame in him. She’d trusted him not to run off; but the itch had suddenly become impossible to ignore.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, still lost to the whims of his mind.

He was gone in the blink of an eye: nothing but traces of blue and upturned dust in his wake.

  
  



	26. Atlas: Final

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. Oh boy, it's finally done. This chapter fought me every step of the way, I **swear.**  
>  2\. I planned to throw the epilogue as part of collections, but it made more sense to me to throw it as part of the core story instead, so I've gone and added an extra chapter to the tally up top!  
> 3\. More rambling down below

Fire licked at the grass.

Bokoblins laid hidden in smoke both violet and black alike. Link wandered through in circles, stepping over ruins, turning on his heel, and surveying the wide space around him. Save for the occasional bright-eyed monster lurking in the reeds, the night was calm. The winds still.

Maybe it would look like he was dancing to anyone who happened to see his listless form searching for something somewhere in that mess of crumbling ruins, overgrown foliage, and decaying husks of slate. They watched on with all the presence of a spider in its web- or a Bokoblin high on a watchtower, or a line of chantryfolk looming even higher atop the sanctum balconies.

Like vultures. Like predators. Like the skulls buried beneath the sludge of Castle Town square.

He’d trekked so far into that field that he couldn’t see the Dueling Peaks Stable anymore nor its sparse torches and flat pastures. The new uneven ground left him stumbling; it took footwork slightly more nimble than his half-broken ankle was capable of not to trip over Guardians’ legs coiling like roots out of the dirt.

He stopped with a sigh that was more like a growl and raked his hands over his face. Lost. He’d gotten lost.

Link wasn’t sure where to find what he was looking for. He’d been letting his instincts guide him along a path he knew yet didn’t know at the same time.

What grand reason was there? Making good on a rash promise he’d made in a park? Occupying himself until dawn? Eager to see the look on Zelda’s face when he left her alone and hurt?

None.

He was just a man who possessed as much self-control as a moth in the face of a house fire; there was one burning question in his mind whose answer he thought might lend him salvation. And, he happened to think he might find it there in that field right between those Guardians or the grass or under a rock or nestled right under the ass of whatever Korok was probably underneath said rock.

 _This is ridiculous,_ his better senses argued. _You’re just walking into Hell again._

“You’ve never left,” he reminded them.

He was just looking for a ladder out.

And so, continue to look under rocks he did. 

Something was there, and it wasn’t just a strong feeling that made him certain of it; Impa’s story combined with all his knowledge of Zelda painted a picture in his mind to compliment the one hanging on that wall quite nicely.

No Slate to take a picture. A painting had to have been the next best thing.

Link pressed a hand to his ribs, slowing to catch his breath. Sharp pain at his ankle. Itching at all the healing cuts and abrasions. He sighed again and turned his face to a machine looming overhead: a Stalker laying tilted against a boulder. 

Tall as a tower at that angle. Deja vu.

Anxiety crept up. There. Close. He took several steps to the left until it all aligned just right- the moon behind it casting threads of silverlight along the edges of its silhouette.

A flash of yellow. Heat and steel.

Something flared: a pain across his side that wasn’t there before. Searing. His sword thudded to the Earth along with him, gravel tearing at his knees. Link’s palms fumbled on a handle as he struggled, frantic, to pull a flameblade out of his side. A hiss of steam erupted when he flung it into the water. The noise was nearly indistinguishable from the sharp breath that he sucked into his lungs. 

He doubled over, panting, and pressed his forehead to the sand as he bit back a sob. It ground its way through grit teeth despite his best efforts, the noise grating.

It’d been the first and only time he’d screamed in pain like that.

The smell of his own cooked flesh made him sick, but it worked as a convenient distraction from the wound along with Zelda’s hands. Her touch was careful and delicate- as if she was frightened she was the thing that’d caused that pitiful sound to come out of him. He hated the sob that came out of her, too.

“Can you stand?” her voice quavered above him, nails drawing fretful lines across his shoulders. 

The pain began to fade until it was a faint whisper. It was courtesy of the Sword; the blade was turning out to do him plenty of favors that night.

Link dragged a forearm over his face, wiping away tears before Zelda could see and scooped up a shield that a yellow Bokoblin left behind. It was proper payment. The spiteful thing had played dead right at the last second. Caught him by surprise with that flameblade. He wanted to stay there and spew curses at its slowly dissipating corpse; but urgency dictated that he let that particular grudge slide.

The distorted symphony of engines howled behind them, after all. It was a noise like sandpaper- the pulse of each Guardian on their trail blaring and out of sync. Even from a distance, Link felt it thrum beneath his skin. Anxiety and terror given voice, he thought. It was encouragement enough for him to find his bearings.

“We’re almost there,” he said, rising. 

Zelda followed, her legs more unsteady than his own. Since the forest, she hadn't shown a hint of agency; she’d become his shadow and nothing more.

It must have been the Sword in his hand and the blood in her that let them run so far. Hours ago they should have given in to their exhaustion; yet they still ran past the burning mass that was the Dueling Peaks Stable at full speed. 

There was a pot shattered across the road.

Four days. Four days since they’d eaten mackerel at that cooking pot.

The monument atop that building finally cracked to pieces when a Stalker crawled on top of it: wood snapping over the chaos as the whole thing caved in upon itself. Heat billowed out from the structure, rushing over them with the force of an ocean tide and casting fragments of starlight into the mists.

Guardians burst from the walls of fire as they had in Castle Town, scrambling after the two of them as they fled into the forest. Oaks toppled when Stalkers tried to ram through: their legs tangling in the upturned roots until they were only able to fire lasers blindly in his and Zelda’s direction.

The fort was in sight when they burst from the treeline. Though, it could barely be considered one anymore. Half of it sat toppled- held together by the bare bones of a foundation and the sheer desperation of its occupants. Guardians in a frenzy. They clambered over rubble- climbing their way to the ramparts. Five of them.

The machines besieging Fort Hateno stopped their assault, heads swiveling to a pair of far more enticing targets. They rushed to greet them.

Link didn’t. Instead, he skidded to a halt, breathing heavy. Five. Could he do it? It was a question he never thought he’d ask himself. He looked to the blood from his burned side- the mass of red trailing down his leg and seeping into the earth. It was cold already. The Sword was cold already. He raised it ever so slightly: the blade dented and flaking off like dead leaves in his shaky grip. What was reflected there told him it was done; he was done.

There was nothing to save.

_Master-_

“It’s alright,” his hoarse words skirted the edge of silence. “Take the rest.”

His body grew cold, light returned to the blade, and rain hissed against hot metal. 

The clock started to tick in earnest.

 _...You have four minutes,_ the Sword informed him. 

“Link?” Zelda over his shoulder. Urgent, confused. “What- what are you doing?”

“Hide,” he directed, and pointed to the ruins of a park. Despite the Guardians hurtling their way, she remained, her eyes on his. “Go,” he insisted before she saw too much. 

Link placed a hand on her shoulder, pushing lightly. Zelda’s fingers slid off his arm as she tipped backwards, her feet slow to follow, and ran off with conflict smeared across every inch of her face. The girl ducked into a stone nook just in time for a laser to flash. It blew apart the earth when he dodged, and, rolling to his feet, he finally rushed to meet them.

Monsters out of the woodwork.

Bokoblins fired arrows. When that didn’t stop him, Moblins flung boulders- and when that didn’t work, they flung themselves into the crossfire without care for personal harm or method.

His shield splintered against the blast of a Guardian’s laser during the first minute. By two, it’d been destroyed completely beneath the heel of a Moblin. Flame, arrows, and stone would find him more easily after that.

Strictly speaking, there were three reasons he hadn’t already laid his weapon down and given up. Hope was none of them.

First, the girl curled away staring at her own hands with wide eyes and revulsion- hating every moment she spent a helpless witness.

Second, the remains of his pride. He stood there the last living Champion, and, likely, the last of the imperial guard. If Ganon wanted him dead, it’d have to work for it. Simple as that.

The third and final was fear. 

Once, high, high on a lonely hill, he’d told Mipha dying was easy. 

Logically, he hadn’t been wrong; but he came to discover that dying right wasn’t nearly as easy. A powerful sense of urgency insisted that there was much to do and little time to do it. It whispered morbid demands to him, posing questions that sent frustration and some kind of panic-stricken grief streaking through him as he cut down a Bokoblin with eyes the same shade of blue as his own.

 _What will it be first?_ it demanded. _Blood loss? The lasers? The boulders? The arrows? The exhaustion? The smoke in your lungs? The clock’s ticking. Spend your time wisely, wiser than you ever have. You’ve always been behind. Do better. Keep up or you’ll spend your last moments knowing your sloth was the death of yourself and that girl you love so much. Peace is just behind that wall of brick and mortar. Clear the path, get her to the other side, and you’ll have your peace. Maybe you’ll be satisfied with that much. You’ll die knowing you did one good thing for the world: ensure that she’s still in it._

__

__

_It’s what you were made for._

A boulder clipped him. It threw his shoulder out of place, sending him tumbling. Link thrust his sword into the earth- sparks flying as it slowed his momentum and raked divots through the mud. The Moblin charged after him. He recovered just in time to cut through it. Violet drenched the grass. It’d been a serious mistake- some of it splattered over his arm, into his open wounds, and poisoned him almost instantly.

His four minutes would be cut short.

By the time the Moblin was gone, it’d sapped away what little energy he and his sword had left. All the pain it had been numbing returned at once. Too much. His vision gone then back again and he was on his knees. Flickering in and out.

The dirt spun. Eyes lifted, straining to focus on the Guardians that he’d rendered broken and sparking. How many did he dispatch? Three? Five? He wasn’t sure. What was he doing? He was getting confused. That wasn’t good.

Link tried once to stand using his sword as support. It didn’t work.

Seeing that, the princess had her fill of being a witness. Mud and water splashing beneath sandals. He was only half-aware of the hand gripping his shoulder and her shuddering breath in his ear.

“Come on, get up,” she urged before he could scold her, her eyes no doubt on the machines still slithering through the ruins. Searching. Most were shapeless forms in the smog, their light dyeing the mists a vivid red. “Please, you can’t fight any more! You know you can’t!”

One saw them. She was right, but he wouldn’t have a choice.

Zelda gasped. “No, no, no-” she cut herself off before speaking more frantically, words and empty promises tumbling out of her mouth, “Link, save yourself! Go! I’ll be fine! Don’t _worry_ about me!”

Sucking in as much air as he could, he lurched forward and staggered to his feet. The Stalker crept through plumes of smoke thick with ash, rising ever higher. Red wandered over him. He raised his injured arm when the cadence of that beam grew into a frenzied pitch, ready to push Zelda back and dart forward.

“No!”

He should have seen it coming when that girl laid a hand on his chest and shoved him back.

Link’s grip on reality must have been weak, because, for a moment, he thought a star had fallen on them.

It looked like one with the way light cascaded, unfurled, and ripped a hole through the night; it sounded like one with the way bells sang over the peal of a charging laser and roaring winds. Blinding. Deafening. He recoiled from it along with the shockwave that rolled outwards, extinguishing flame and sending debris spiraling through the open air.

The trees were still groaning when the light died. Grass swayed, its hushed, fervent whispers the only source of disquiet. His ears rang at the lack of sound- his heart an uneven rhythm in his ears.

The Guardians fell seconds later, one after the other thudding heavily to the Earth- whatever force had been possessing them evicted and evaporating into nothing. 

Zelda stood there at the center of it all, marveling at her trembling hand. Unharmed.

Relief cast away whatever had been possessing him, too.

He didn’t feel it when he hit the ground.

( _“What do you think it feels like?”_

Zelda posed a query to him during one Akkalan night when the silence had persisted and her thoughts had been left to their own devices for too long. He shifted to see her better on the bedroll they’d started sharing for no reason in particular. She shifted closer, too, firelight glowing along the tangle of gold above her head as she moved. Close. Close enough he could see his own reflection in her eyes. Link held her gaze. Her lips moved, forming words. They fell short.

 _“...Ask me,”_ he prodded.

The princess looked here and there- reluctant to expand on what had clearly been an impulsive question. Regardless, his curious stare encouraged her to weather out an answer:

_“Death.”_

Branches creaked. Bare tree limbs clawed at the night sky.

 _“Why?”_ His response was delayed, fogging in the chill.

 _“Because… I can’t ask her. My mother.”_ She stared above. Stars in her eyes. _“I can’t stop wondering if it hurt all the way to the end.”_

As strange as the subject was, Link mused, _“I don’t think it does.”_

 _“You’re just saying that.”_ Her eyes closed.

_“I’m not. You said it looked like she was falling asleep, didn’t you?”_

Zelda’s head shook. _“It was too dark to see her face until they opened the door…”_

 _“It does,”_ he informed her. _“...It looks like you stop feeling. Lose your grip and fall off somewhere.”_

She searched his face, concerned by something in his tone. _“You’ve seen it?”_

His lips moved, forming words- )

Green above him. Her voice was there, too. A world away.

“-you’re going to be fine-”

Zelda stared down looking like a wrecked ship. Her forehead wrinkled. Her head shook- mouth open and trembling and lashes wet. He hated it enough to try. The terror in her gave way to relief when managed to sit up, but it was dashed when his body gave out again, stealing away whatever hope she had left.

He’d never tell her he’d been wrong about one thing: it hurt. Though, if he were forced to tell her, he’d certainly tell her it was all the wounds he’d accumulated that caused the hurt despite the fact that he hadn’t felt a single one of them by the time she’d been cradling the back of his head and reliving her childhood nightmares.

As for the second, well, he hadn’t been far off.

However, it became apparent to him that the timing of the fall was never his to decide. It couldn’t have been. If that much power were placed in a person’s hands, then he was sure the world would have been filled with people far too stubborn to die- then Rhoam and his father and the Champions and all the knights in Hyrule would have stood right up and kept fighting.

That’s why only spirits linger, isn’t it? They remain clinging to something that had long since lost its hold on them. Maybe it was the body. Maybe it was gravity that lost hold of you. Maybe it was the Sword that finally let go of him.

Nevertheless, it was Zelda who didn’t let him go.

It was her own power that led him to where he was now: standing atop that same Guardian and looking out over the swath of grass that had been his deathbed. There were a million things he could have been feeling while staring flatly at that patch of ugly grass. It seemed the few his mind had selected from that vast catalogue were confusion and disappointment.

 _‘-her eyes were sharp as a razor when she threw those doors open,’_ Impa’s raspy voice said in his memory.

He remembered that last moment, the look in Zelda’s eyes, and wondered again where the strength came from.

The Slate rose. A black screen. He saw blue in it, saw nothing but weakness there, and almost flung it into the forest.

He needed to know where.

But, as he’d thought sitting in Impa’s house, the past could no longer provide what he needed, could it? A bush plucked of all its berries. For all his efforts, his fingers were left bleeding at the thorns and his hunger unsated. He would lick at the wounds and take a deep breath.

Just once, he’d be selfish.

His heart assigned itself to choking him.

“Zelda?” he called. Meek and tentative. Shameful.

_I’m here._

Quick as the pluck of a harp string.

It startled him- and here he’d gone and prepared himself for that prayer of his to be utterly ignored.

The Slate lowered to his side. He looked up despite knowing full well he wouldn’t be able to see her.

“...Hi,” he said to the stars and to the moon as if the world hadn’t just been on fire- as if he wasn’t still a walking torch.

_Hi._

God said right back as if nothing of import had happened ever at all.

_...You didn’t stay._

“No, I... didn’t.”

_You found it._

“I did.”

_You called me._

“I did.”

_Tell me._

Where to begin?

“I-” he swallowed, faltering, and blurted, “Are you tired?”

Surely, the stretch of quiet that passed could cover the road from Robbie’s lighthouse to Urbosa’s lavender carpets twice over.

_…What?_

He looked behind him to those twin mountains and the infinite expanse between them. “Aren’t you?”

_I am._

“You know I’ll-”

_I’m alright._

Warmth. Surety.

“How…? I can’t wrap my head around it,” Link admitted, dazed. His heart was still in his throat; finding the air he needed to speak around it was difficult. “How you can be that strong.”

 _It didn’t come from_ me. _Not all of it._

If he was lost before, then he was stranded in the ocean now.

“Where, then?”

_...You have recovered all your memories of us. It is there, Link. You’ve had the answer for a long time._

He wouldn’t be here if he did.

_You’ve simply lost sight of it._

The energy drained out of him. With stiff limbs, he pulled his baldric over his head and sunk down. Legs dangled between the arches of a crown of slate. She would continue on as he stared at the sword in his lap.

_…When was it, you think, that we began to do something as barbaric as idolize pain? No one can bear it for long. Even us._

“...If I can’t,” he said, running his hand along the metal, “then how do I have the right to hold this?”

Even The Deku Tree was never able to provide much insight as to how or why. 

_‘Well, you must be chosen by the Sword,’_ had been the most that spirit’s boundless wisdom could provide: a shrug in the form of words.

There was nothing to do but accept the unknowable. And he had, in a sense. It’d been easier to cope with early on. A part of him always held out hope during those first two years that the Sword was more fickle than it appeared- that, one day, he may wake to it on his pillow, and it would look at his miserable glare, contemplate its own life decisions as he so often did, and that the voice the books always talked about would declare:

_Nevermind. You can put me back._

And he would be rid of it.

That scenario was far from a fantasy anymore. He had a job to do- the towering obligations of a survivor to fulfill. The last thing he needed was the Sword rejecting him in the middle of it for reasons he didn’t understand.

Luckily, Zelda had something to say to all that.

_It’s simpler than you think._

The confidence in her tone struck him. It was strange, he thought, that she sounded so sure of herself these days. More so than she’d ever been.

_...I’ll let you in on the secret: it’s just like the storybooks._

She paused for what could have only been dramatic effect.

_All it takes to be a Hero is a good heart._

He sat mute. Even the crickets stopped their singing.

_...Did- did you hear me?_

Something bubbled up in his chest. Link sputtered before laughter rang over the field. Zelda balked at him.

_Don’t you make fun of me! I’m completely serious!_

“That’s it?!” he waved the Sword at the sky, somehow indignant and amused at the same time, “There’s a million other people who should be able to use this then!”

_Come now, that may be true-_

“Hell, even _Beedle_ could probably swing it-”

 _But none are as_ courageous _as you._

His laughter died.

“...You think?” he asked, wonderstruck.

_Yes._

He was less shocked by the lack of hesitation in her answer than the fact that he believed her. All the festered insecurities in him told him it was wrong. He shouldn’t have that kind of faith in himself.

Though, who was he to question a Goddess?

Nonetheless, courage hadn’t been enough; a good heart hadn’t been enough to weather through it all. The Sword dropped into his lap. His gaze dropped with it.

_Go back to Impa, Link... You’ll rediscover what you’re looking for there._

A finger tapped at his sword.

She had yet to be wrong, hadn’t she?

Putting a hand on his knee and bending forward, Link stood.

“Thank you. For this,” he managed through all his muddled emotions.

_Always._

“...Zelda?”

_Yes?_

“You know I still-” his heart returned to choke him and stifled the words. He wormed a smile onto his face, amending, “...Nothing. I’ll tell you when I see you.”

A sigh drifted through the ruins. Content. Link swung the Sword over his shoulder, yanking the strap tight. Their Slate powered on with a rich melody and a flicker of blue. Kakariko at his fingertips.

_Good… I have a lot to tell you, too._

With the wind at his back and a shaky breath, he took a leap of faith.

  


* * *

  


The world was upside down; Impa was outside.

“Go on then. Let’s get whatever cheeky remark you have to spout out of the way, shall we?” she urged with a wave of her lantern.

“Look at you,” he obliged perhaps a little too quickly. “All by yourself! The second I leave you run off to tear up the town. Dorian’s slacking.”

She barked. _“Hah!_ Sneaking past any of you goons is child play. I can’t count how many times you yelped like a startled puppy whenever I walked up behind you.”

Link crossed his arms. “Back then, maybe. Not anymore with all that noise from your joints.”

“As if! A little exercise is all I need to work out the kinks. Mark my words, boy, underestimate a Sheikah elder and you’ll mess yourself like a puppy next time you’re caught off guard, too.”

“Yes, Grandma,” he drawled, looming over her, “I’ll keep that in mind.”

“Mouthy rat.”

“Old kook.”

She laughed: her voice harsh yet good natured. But, as with their last conversation, her amusement was quick to drain, and the shadows on her face began to stand out to him more than the splash of warmth cast by her lantern.

“And here I thought I’d have the night to myself.”

Link’s arms slipped away, swaying as he let out a breath and looked over the slumbering village. Sparkling lights. The valley a bowl of ink. Ta Loh Naeg Shrine lay mere feet behind them: a blue beacon at his back.

“I’m as surprised as you,” he said, honest.

“And? What was it that possessed you to return? Did you forget your _coat?”_

More than a hint of bitterness. He couldn’t fault her for it.

“The same as always,” Link shrugged with a rueful grin. “Memories.”

Impa didn’t move, a hand behind her back and that dangling light in the other. A spider patient in its web. He suspected he’d been caught in it the moment he woke up in her house, engaging in a pointless struggle since then.

Fiddling with his hair tie in some kind of nervous gesture, he carped, “That painting drove me crazy, you know. Hated looking at it since the first time I saw it.” 

A glimpse of panic. “Please, tell me you did not-”

He shook his head with a half-hearted laugh. “I hated it so much I thought something had to be there.”

The final memory: the big climax: everything he’d been working toward. Ironic that it turned out to be useless to him now. 

“It was just more violence.”

Just more pain. More blood. More tears. Where had it got him?

“...I take it you’ve come to your senses then?” she eventually broached. 

“Senses…?” Link repeated. Red eyes bore and burrowed into him. He stared right back. “Maybe you can tell me where it is... The sense in any of this.”

A brow creased and Impa stroked at her chin. 

“I wasn’t sure myself, once,” she confessed, and ambled off just past the shrine. “I came out here to do a little reflection myself. Come along.”

With that, she ascended into the maw of the forest. And, with nothing to lose, he followed.

“I thought she’d gone mad, saying she would deliver the Sword and then run off to fight the Beast alone. Once I saw her vanish up the path from our window, I burst out the doors and chased after her,” the woman rambled when the darkness enveloped them completely.

Pale owlish faces here and there: Bluepees in the brush. They were strangely unbothered by Impa’s presence whilst she hobbled on by, but scattered whenever Link came close. One ran past his feet, and he nearly stumbled over his guide when she came to an abrupt stop.

A bony finger directed his attention to what appeared to be a normal tree. An Elm.

“I caught her _right_ there, waiting for me.”

(Her hands had been behind her back, the girl leaning quaintly against the bark when Impa blundered through the maze of greenery. White strands a mess over her face. They blew away with every labored breath, her chest heaving. She brushed them aside with a shaky hand, and watched with disbelief as Zelda pushed off her tree- sharing not a shred of the urgency she felt.

_“Good, you followed.”_

_“What is this?”_ Impa demanded, breathless. _“I don’t care what my grandmother says, this is insane. It has to be. I can’t be the only one who sees that.”_

_“I assure you, I have the full scope of my powers available to me.”_

_“Powers or_ not _this can’t be all we do. Watch you run off to the castle for Godde-”_ she stammered, cutting herself off, and weathered, “-who _knows how long until he heals!”_

She gestured, haphazard, in whatever figurative direction said boy was in. Zelda looked past as if she could actually see where he was, and, when her eyes slid back to Impa’s, she insisted:

_“It is all we can do.”_

_“We have the Slate! And warriors-”_

_“Is there anyone as strong as him?”_ the princess interrupted.

Lips mashed together.

 _“No,”_ she answered. _“But we have_ many-”

 _“Can they wield this?”_ Zelda challenged further. 

The Sword there on her back. Beaten and battered like the Slate- two objects she didn’t think were capable of being reduced to such a state. Like Hyrule. Like him. If only Zelda could wield it like he could. 

A cruel thought, after everything.

But, the princess’ head dipped low, and Impa knew she was wishing the same. That unshakeable ruse of hers gone for the barest instant. It hurt to see. Shame up her neck.

_“...No.”_

_“Then you already understand this is all we can do.”_

_“Wait,”_ Impa bit out.

 _“Yes,”_ she confirmed. _“Wait.”_

She glared at the dirt. At the girl’s bleeding feet. Zelda drew in a long breath, hands limp at her sides.

_“...I’m afraid I must ask you to join me in earnest.”_

The Earth quaked. The Beasts howled and the forest shook. Impa raised her head as birds flocked from their perches, shadows flitting over them. Worry stained the girl’s features, but it appeared it wasn’t for herself.

_“Wait for him. Be there when he wakes.”_

A task only for a Sheikah and their peculiar longevity.

What a promise to make, she marveled. To dedicate a lifetime to baited breath and blind faith.

Zelda’s arms bent, hugging herself. _“He likely won’t have any memory when he wakes, but there are some things ingrained too deeply within him to be forgotten, I’m sure.”_

 _I fear he will lose himself to it,_ she murmured, gazing high past the treetops and to a red moon.

The wild, the task, and everything in-between.

 _“Tell him to accept help every now and then, won’t you?”_ Zelda looked back down, smiling through hurt. _“No matter how much he kicks and screams.”_

 _“What about you?”_ Impa pressed, one hand gripping her singed robes. The other that broken Slate.

Her smile only grew.

 _“I have my blood to guide me. And my mother, my grandmother... The spirits of many will remain in that castle. With me.”_ Zelda evaluated the woman before her with a bit of wonder herself, blinking. A spark. _“...Even without them, I wouldn’t be completely alone, would I?”_

She extended her hand, upturned. _“There’s you. Purah. Robbie. Sheikah- all of Hyrule’s people. You’re fighting, too... The two of us have never been quite enough, even as far as I can remember now.”_

Suddenly, the girl stepped back. Impa reached out to stop her as she did so, but only succeeded in limping forward. Groping at empty space. Zelda’s hands clasped beneath her chin.

_“Do you see? This is me leading the charge. Nothing more.”_

Composure. Control. She struggled for it, yet it seemed to be just beyond her grasp. The answer that came out of her mouth was beyond her control, as well. _“I’ll be here.”_

It was all she could do.

_“Thank you.”_

_“Of course.”_

_“...I must go.”_

_“Yes.”_ A splintered voice.

_“Goodbye, Impa.”_

Her mouth trembled. She bowed to hide it. _“Goodbye, princess.”_

When her back straightened, Zelda was already out of sight. Gone into the thicket. Footprints in the mud. Impa crumpled like paper at the sight of it: sinking down to her heels, hair sliding over her shoulders, and crushing the Slate to her chest.)

“I suspect it was the last time anyone ever saw her, aside from the forest’s Great Spirit,” the woman surmised.

A day later and the red sky was gone. The Beasts stilled, the monsters receded, and she’d stood side by side next to Robbie and Purah: looking on as the doors to the Shrine of Resurrection rumbled shut one after the other.

And that, perhaps, was the real start of it.

Link didn’t say a word, even when the woman spared her breath to study him. He might have had a far off look on his face- realizing he’d been wrong about one of the most important details in it all.

“She isn’t alone in there,” Impa maintained, guessing at what was behind his frown. He flinched when she laughed loud and short, “From the sound of it, Ganon has _generations_ of angry women to contend with.”

“Oh.”

A chuckle. _“That’s all?”_

The trunk was hollowed out: the hiding spot of a Korok, once. He felt a little like that tree.

Impa would resume her walk until he found proper words, treading a path she must have known by heart.

“I believed it was an opportunity to do things over- to become someone who could ease your burdens rather than drive you to silence.”

By the time they emerged from their jaunt through the woods, the Eastern skies were a rosy blush. Pleasant as the sight was, Impa didn’t pay it much mind. Instead, she fumbled with the knob on her lantern. The flame inside was snuffed out. Both hands gripped the handle.

“These last few days, I’ve felt that I had failed you. However, it’s clear to me now that a lack of trust was not the issue...”

Her words drifted off, giving him an opportunity to explain what was stewing in his head. He didn’t take it. It was rare for Impa to speak of herself to such an extent; and it wasn’t as if he was eager to take up the mantle just yet, either. 

A foot tapped. He shifted, uncomfortable. Finally, she gave voice to the theory that had been stewing in her own:

“Was all this the result of you trying to follow an example that didn’t _exist?”_

“I-”

Well, yes.

But, he didn’t particularly want to fess up to the fact that the hill he’d chosen to die on had turned out to be a figment of his imagination.

Hesitance or no, his lack of a denial only pointed in so many directions. Better that way, wasn’t it? It was always better when he didn’t have to find the right words. 

Except, that meant that a veil was snatched away, and that the source for all his distress was up for public viewing like the embarrassing hoof mark plastered all over his face. That alone made him want to backpedal into the woods- hide somewhere Impa couldn’t see him. Maybe he’d fling her hat and all those creepy eyes swinging from it somewhere into the town below for extra measure.

 _“Goddesses,”_ the old woman lamented, realizing the full scope of his delusion, “what did you get in your head?”

That he was born to be a means to an end and had no right to the free will he’d spent so many years hoarding, nor the right to a mountain of soft pillows while Zelda was still trapped alone in a room of skeletons, to start.

Except, she wasn’t bearing it all alone, and he had a mound of pillows waiting for him whether he wanted them or not, and he might’ve been a person and not a weapon.

And, he might’ve had nothing to prove.

Wind pushed at the world. Petals from blooming trees tumbled over the hillside. Nostalgia. Link took a sharp breath as something in him snapped into place.

_Petals in his hair, Koroks at his feet, the full extent of fear in his grasp- cannons and sea salt- water like a turtle’s back, a grin somewhere in the wafts of steam- a bent and broken hand at his cheek- another, red and jeweled extended out to cover the length of a broken bridge- white and pink over a dinner table- a girl and her seal and her unforgettable laugh- rubies, rubble, debris- feathered crowns shining alongside a statue in spite of an overcast sky- his head on a wood floor, watching small hands thumb through paper- a parrot searching endlessly for words of his own- pumpkin stew, glimpses of timid brown between the epitaphs_

_-nightshades and silent shrooms-_

Fleeting moments of comfort that haunted him as surely as any mistake ever had.

( _“I’m a knight,”_ had been Link’s tentative reminder.

Covers fell as she rose. He stayed, looking up. Green gone then back again, blinking like the lights past her head.

 _“You’ve never mentioned it,”_ was her equally tentative observation.

_“Should I have?”_

_“Does it bother you?”_

_“A lot of things bother me.”_

_“Tell me, then.”_

_“...Should I?”_

_“Did you forget the other half of our promise?”_ Zelda leaned close. _“It’s only right that we complain.”_

A smile quirked. _“I don’t think you want that.”_

_“Do tell.”_

_“I wouldn’t shut up the whole night.”_

_“Really? That sounds perfect to me. I love the sound of your voice.”_

He tried to look away. He couldn’t, and only managed an awkward laugh. _“Don’t you get embarrassed? Saying things like that.”_

 _“Yes.”_ Blunt. _“It’s true, though, and the look on your face right now is priceless.”_

_“You’re terrible.”_

_“You love it.”_

Goddess, he couldn’t catch his breath with her, could he? Link swallowed, trying to pretend she couldn’t feel his incriminating heartbeat through the palm she had on his chest. _“Stop it.”_

That girl looked too pleased with herself. _“Start talking if you want to shut me up. Otherwise I might change the subject to your eyes.”_

Purah was right. They were disgusting. 

Zelda’s expression sobered. Expectant. 

A knock on the door.

He’d answered.)

A fracture of gold on the horizon. Link grimaced, shying away from it. He had another long day ahead of him, he’d bet money on it.

At least he finally knew where to begin.

“Impa?”

“Hm?”

“Do you have tea?”

She scoffed as if he’d personally offended her and her mother’s spirit.

“Do you have _tea,_ he asks. Come along now!” she pattered down the hill, yapping a command loud enough to wake the village. He lingered, smiling down at her retreating form. That is, until she whirled around. “Don’t loiter up there!”

“Slow down,” Link yelled. “My ankle’s messed up!”

“Oh, _now_ you’ve decided to complain, have you?”

Eyes rolled, he opened his mouth, and Impa probably considered slapping him a seventh time.

  


* * *

  


The courtyard was empty: closed for the morning.

“Hylia,” Sidon crowed, tall enough to reach the sparse clouds. “We couldn’t have asked for a more beautiful day.”

He nodded in agreement: entranced by swirling lights and the crisp scent of freshwater. Though, another more rich hung in the air.

“And, to think you came prepared with a meal! We ought to have a picnic,” Link’s companion said to the covered pot in his arms. He swatted at him when he reached out to see what was under it.

“Nope, sorry,” he shot back. “It’s not for you.”

Sidon’s face twisted with confusion before his head snapped to his sister’s memorial, then back to Link. “You… got her _soup?”_

“Koko made it.”

“Who?”

“Best chef in Kakariko.”

“Oh, wonderful.” A pause. “...You got her _soup?”_

“Shut up,” he laughed. “I know what I’m doing.”

Hands flew up, relenting, and Sidon forgot his questions the moment water began to ripple. 

“Good, they’re here.”

Thundering footsteps. A Zora that might have had a more literal ability to touch the clouds. Blue and white as always, save for the blossoms against his chest.

“Good morning!” he declared, warm as sunshine. Link waved.

“Ergh,” a head poked out from the king’s shadow with an entirely expected greeting, _“you_ came.”

“As if I could resist the chance to see you.”

“At least keep your mouth shut, boy.”

The prince’s sigh had the makings of a snarl. “Please, I would appreciate a little peace today.”

“...Yes, Your Highness,” Muzu grumbled, but shot a foul glare in Link’s direction anyway. Far from a guarantee. He’d give it ten minutes.

Unperturbed by century-old spats, King Dorephan sniffed the air. “Is that _soup?”_

“Yes,” Sidon answered as Link shuffled out of the king’s reach. “We’re not allowed any.” Dorephan made a noise that suggested he was going to protest, but his son continued on without a beat, “Let’s begin.”

Silk in her brother’s hand, brilliant peonies in her father’s, and sapphire in her caretaker’s with a pot of creamy radish soup tucked right in the middle of it all.

Loitering at the base of her statue didn’t make for much of a ceremony, but he suspected Mipha would have preferred it over all the pomp and grandeur that was sure to be thrown in the evening.

“She’d hate to be spoiled like this, wouldn’t she?” Sidon mused when the air gained too much weight.

_“Absolutely-”_

“-you have no idea.”

The other two griped. Link couldn’t help but laugh.

  


* * *

  


“Are you trying to cut off my pulse?”

“Hush and keep your arm out.”

As if making a point, Impa tugged the measuring tape until it constricted around his bicep- testing bruises. The noise he made was just as much of a complaint.

“I dare you,” she warned, “move one more time and I’ll measure your throat next.”

“Aren’t grandmas supposed to be nicer than this?”

“I’m not your grandmother.”

“What? You’re not?”

The end of the tape smacked his shoulder. 

_“Nayru’s sake,”_ Impa muttered only to gape at her handiwork. “Is this _backwards?”_

Link remained sitting and his arm dangling as she squinted at the measurements. A tinge of amusement in his face. “You really don’t know how?”

“I never had an interest in such things.”

“Paya?”

“And watch her faint like a goat?”

“Didn’t she already help you steal my clothes?”

“That was Dorian,” Impa clarified, circling him. The tape coiled around his chest. Like a snake. “And you had clean ones waiting for you, didn’t you? It’s not as if we thought it would prevent you from running off like your Slate could- especially given that all of Necluda has already seen you half-naked.”

He’d made quite the entrance into Impa’s house a month after he’d woken: throwing both doors open with nothing but three sticks strapped to his back and a pair of blue shorts.

 _‘Hey, so-_ wow, _you’re old. Are you a monk?’_ had been the first thing he said to the woman. 

It’d been genuine curiosity, but, needless to say, Impa never let him live that incident down. He blamed Rhoam; the man’s ghost made little effort to explain the word _‘rude’_ to him.

“You know I didn’t have anything else,” Link defended. “Fire arrows-” The tape yanked tight. He choked. _“-got everything.”_

He hadn’t the stamina to outrun them just yet on that Plateau; he could barely keep pace with a Bokoblin. Rhoam had made no effort to help him with that, either, watching from a cooking pot with his walking stick and what Link reckoned was a mocking grin. 

That or pity.

“Yes, yes,” she dismissed. “You’d best make sure they don’t get this one.”

“...They won’t.” A mumble, but earnest all the same.

Extra blue fabric was laid out in front of him. He hoped it’d fit right; but that old priestess’ growing frustration made him doubt that.

 _“Blasted thing.”_ The tapeline slid away after a defeated huff. “Let’s pay the seamstress a visit.”

Impa made for the doors, and Link barely managed to hide his relief.

  


* * *

  


During the day, Kakariko wasn’t so quiet.

Mellie could be heard humming melodies amidst her plum garden, Lasli calling to traveling merchants, paint splattering against Pikango’s canvas, or the clack of wooden talismans swaying in the wind- all of it reaching its peak alongside the noon sun.

Link poked his head around Dorian’s broad frame, peering at the most prominent source of disquiet that day.

Cado there, flapping his arms like one of his pets. Rola with an arrow in her hand- its iron head catching sunlight as she waved it around without thought. It nearly took off a piece of his mustache.

“I’m telling you to keep those things off my property! I’m tired of finding droppings all over my entryway!”

“They like their freedom! What would you have me do?! Lock them up like lowly _prisoners?”_

“If _I_ can stay in a shop all day, your cuckoos can stay in your _yard-”_

“Wasn’t your shift over half an hour ago?” Link asked, having to speak up a little over the shouts echoing down the path.

Dorian looked like he wanted to plug his ears.

“Has it been that long already?” A sarcastic mutter.

“At this rate you’ll miss Koko’s lunch,” he warned.

“Are you trying to goad me into breaking up that fight?”

Damn, he caught on. Link clicked his tongue and leaned back against the archway. “Who else is going to do it?”

 _You, maybe,_ was what Dorian’s glower told him, but it was covered up with an inquiry and a skeptical eyebrow. “What makes you concerned? Are you on _guard_ duty, as well, Master Link?”

“You don’t have to call me that,” he said for what he counted to be the seventy-fifth time. “I’m waiting for Rola to get back to her shop.”

Realistically, there were tens of other merchants he could visit with a quick flip of his Slate. And he would- that is, if Rola didn’t give him what she called the _‘spunk discount’._ It sounded dubious to him, but what reason did he have to complain?

“You’re buying arrows?”

He nodded, though he wasn’t sure if Dorian could see it in his peripheral. There was a set of crossed arms. Pensive.

“...Has it been that long already?” the man said again, his brow pulled in a way that always seemed to remind Link of Rhoam.

It had.

April was already finished: the calendar nine days into May. No more cuts and bruises, no more salves and wraps. No more hooves branded in purple. However, he hardly expected the discoloration around his eyes to go away any time soon. Maybe months. Maybe years. 

Maybe never.

Yet, it had faded enough to meet even Impa’s high standards. Thus, his odd vacation would come to an end in three days, and back into the waiting snare of a trial he would go.

“You’re just _jealous!”_

“Of those feathered _reptiles?!”_ Rola screeched. “In your dreams!” 

A look was exchanged between him and Dorian before the man’s patience pittered out, and he trudged off to break up their squabbling.

Something skipped into view: a rooster over the inn. Bright feathers tossing in the open air.

The shouts grew. The rooster crowed.

Link merely closed his eyes to listen better.

  


* * *

  


Rows and rows of seating pillows lay on either side of him.

He stared down, his face passive as he watched Impa’s shoulders rise and fall as steadily as a sleeping bear. The old woman’s hat looked like it was going to fall off, but he wouldn’t dare touch it. Something told him she was more possessive of that thing than he was his own sword.

“I’m going,” he told her snoring form.

Pale dawnlight through the windows. A wall bare: devoid of the painting that once occupied it. Having fulfilled its purpose, Link joked that Pikango’s next artwork could replace it. He wholly expected Impa to ignore that suggestion, yet, much to his surprise, it was gone the next day.

She’d known it wasn’t a joke. He hadn’t until he saw that blank space.

Gathering himself, he turned on his heel and crossed the room. His hand pushed flat on the door. A crack of light leaping through. Dust in the beams.

_“Stay safe.”_

His head turned quickly, chasing the source of that sleepy grumble. Impa was still slouched over atop her perch. Snoring away. He blinked dumbly.

If Link didn’t know better, he would’ve thought he imagined it.

A smile tugged at his lips before he pushed through the doors, the wind that rushed to envelope him marking the end of his short reprieve.

  


* * *

  


Clanging metal carried through the expanse of Hyrule’s sky.

Link darted his way between a small army of monks: The Master Sword pitted against the searing heat of tens of ancient blades. White smoke fanned out in his wake. Lightning at his fingertips and slate slick with rain.

Spiked balls hailed from above from a shower of dizzying papers, breaking through Daruk’s Protection with ease. It sent him skidding across the platform.

So much for a month of healing bruises.

He recovered quickly enough, regardless, a grin spreading wide on his face as the ground shook and more flashpaper danced past. Devilish.

The rush of a battle with a clear mind.

Oh, how he’d missed it.

  


* * *

  


“I can’t put my feather on it, but I get the feeling you’re even more accomplished than you were when last we met…” Kass squinted. “Though I see there are some things that will never change.”

A sheepish grin was the best Link could muster, nursing a new mark on his face: one the shape of a monk’s foot rather than a hoof. He wasn’t sure which was more embarrassing.

Kass evaluated him a moment more before the wind whisked away any concern in his gaze. He looked to find relief in whatever he saw, and held his accordion a little higher. Link’s hand returned to his hip as he chirped:

“My teacher's unfinished song… the one I told you about… I _finally_ completed the key verses!” The interest in his face only encouraged him to continue, “This lofty location is the perfect stage to sing this special song. It takes place one hundred years ago… at Hyrule Castle. Yes, the very castle you can still see over yonder.”

True to his words, it could be seen nestled against the skyline: its flèche breaching the heavens in mutiny of the all years that had abused it. Banners flowed alongside trails of red and revolved around the fluttering light at the center of it all.

The world between her hands and on his shoulders. She kept it spinning and he kept it standing alone.

Or, at least, so he’d thought.

“It’s about the magnificent inauguration of the chosen Champions,” Kass finished when he reined in his thoughts. “If you would, please listen to this special song… The Champion’s Ballad.”

A reticent request.

“Gladly,” Link said, and Kass’ smile made it hard to believe monsters ever existed in the first place.

The melody rang sanguine.

Somewhere in the notes that poet played, he thought heard it again. The cheering, the laughter, the click of a camera.

He’d never thought much of that ceremony. In fact, he’d rejected the thought of it time and time again, what with it feeling more like a funeral for his future than a celebration of it. But now, well, he supposed it went without saying what the memory of it had come to mean to him.

If only he’d paid more attention to it all instead of drowning in his misery off in the shadows of a gazebo. If only his memory were a little clearer: captured properly in his mind’s eye.

But, staring at a photo Kass handed to him a moment later, it seemed the world had made up for his shortcomings yet again.

Daruk with a devilish grin to rival his own, Revali flailing, Urbosa’s smirk hinting at joy, Mipha more shocked than he’d ever seen her, and him and Zelda stumbling into each other.

The only thing that photo failed to capture was the graceless pile they’d all tumbled into half a second later, and Purah’s cackling dwarfing the trumpets below.

“I know you’ll treasure it.”

Incredulity burst out of him with a short laugh before he sucked the air right back in. Kass turned around to take in the view a second time. Link didn’t know whether it was good timing or to give him a moment to find his composure in private, but he was grateful for it all the same.

“A final thought… May the souls of the Champions who watch over Hyrule rest in peace.”

The frame against his forehead: his heart twisting. Link pressed a hand to his mouth when that picture was no longer enough to hide behind, trying not to make a sound or break the frame in his tightening grip.

It wasn’t long before he managed to blink back the hurt and join Kass at the cliff’s edge. The photo dissolved in his hands, drawn into the Slate. He stared at his open palms for a moment before fixing his attention back onto the castle.

_Link._

Zelda could see him from there, too, it seemed.

_You’ve reached the end, have you?_

His nod was small, but didn’t lack conviction. The girl in the distance hummed. Soft, prideful, and a little impish.

_Are you ready?_

“I’ll be there soon,” he said to two people at once.

Amber eyes flicked toward him, briefly. A moment’s deliberation and Kass tipped his head in a way that suggested he wasn’t against that idea.

 _“Very well,”_ they both replied.

Not knowing exactly what to say, yet not wanting to leave without saying anything more, Link blurted:

“I’m sorry.” Kass shot a glare his way. “Or- maybe thank you is better,” he corrected as quickly as he could.

For helping him when he couldn’t help himself.

“It certainly is.” The Rito’s glower immediately lightened into a cheeky grin. “I wish you the best of luck. Truly.”

Really, he didn’t deserve any of these people.

Standing taller, Link put his hands on his hips. “Can I ask you a favor?”

“Yes?”

“Save that song for her, too.”

Kass bowed his head, a green scarf floating against the upward drafts. 

“With pleasure.”

  


* * *

  


“Please please please please please-”

The next day, Cottla was running in place, hands clasped and pleading.

“-let me try!”

Link glanced to the Master Cycle behind him only once before looking back with his answer:

“Sure.”

_“Absolutely not!”_

The girl’s father scooped her up before she could dash over to the machine. Dorian loured at him as Cottla whined in protest; he elected to ignore it by way of an official greeting.

“How’s it goin’?”

“Welcome back, Master Link,” he droned, and pointed past his daughter’s kicking legs to Impa’s door. “There are… _guests_ waiting for you.”

Guests? The man’s tone hardly matched that word.

The Master Cycle vanished when he trotted up the steps. Cottla only complained louder at that, but the closer he got to the doors, the more it was drowned out by shouts coming from within. Despite not knowing what he was barging into, Link didn’t hesitate to throw open the doors.

He froze, arms still spread out.

“Look at you! You’re the size of a weasel!”

“We’re the same height, you _hag!”_

The Sheikah sisters: arguing in the middle of the meeting hall. A set of familiar faces lined the walls, their expressions a mix of annoyance or concern- but most erring toward exasperation. Robbie was the odd one out, taking notice of Link before anyone else and looking positively entertained.

“Good afternoon!”

The doors slid shut on their own.

“Oh, thank Hylia he’s here.” Symin, looking a decade older than he was.

Granté waved without looking up from the armor he was tinkering with. Paya mimicked him, sitting in a corner next to Symin and looking years older herself. Careful to avoid the center, Link shuffled along the edge of the room to meet them.

“D-Did you finish it?” Paya asked.

A nod.

“Oh.” She looked down, then back up. “Congratulations.”

“What happened to your face?” Granté.

He was getting tired of that question.

“Nothing,” Link deflected. “What are you all doing here?” The suspicion there was tangible.

“We’re here to see you off, obviously,” Robbie provided. “And make preparations.”

Link’s words stalled, “Wh- preparations?”

“For the battle. The Calamity? I’m sure you remember.”

The confusion on his face was pitiful enough that Impa ceased her arguing to snip, “What, did you think we were going to shoo you off without a plan?”

“I’d bet that was _his_ plan, for sure,” the old woman’s sister piped up. 

Link’s pout couldn’t refute that.

_“Unbelievable.”_

Ganging up on him two seconds after arguing is what’s unbelievable.

“It’s the tail end of our own task.” Impa retreated to her usual spot in the room, bending down to pick up what was finally returned from the seamstress. “We haven’t a clue what will happen when you challenge the Calamity, you see.”

“Thus, we’ve called back our warriors to guard the borders of Central Hyrule and ensure no one interferes, nor any Guardians escape. From the sound of it, our four neighbors are willing to help, as well,” Robbie elaborated.

Impa held the cloth up to him. The blue was so vivid it hurt to look at. His fingers brushed the thick material, and her voice followed after when it slipped away, “You and the princess will be free to wreak however much havoc is necessary.”

 _Don’t fret over the details,_ she instructed. _Focus on the fight._

Almost like silk. It felt right. He was sure it’d fit right.

An expectant silence. Link cleared his throat, looked over the group in front of him, and proposed:

“What are we waiting for?”

  
  
  
  
  
  


...What’s left to say?

About the life that’s flashing before his eyes as he stares into the jaws of a sanctum with the full extent of hope in his grasp all while keenly aware of the country watching on in rising anticipation for the battle that promises to bring an end to a night which had lasted an age and one thousand days more.

_Shall we?_

Link walks forward. The castle shudders.

It’s dawn, almost day, and his tunic is the only blue in sight. The crumbling path before him is colored red and violet like the rest of the castle. It’s clear of monsters and Guardians, leaving it quiet enough for him to hear the sound of what he thinks is a Beast pacing in its cage. Zelda’s light is there shining through brighter yet smaller than it’s ever been, and her voice is closer yet fainter than it's ever been as she says:

_I’m sure, with our strength combined…_

It always comes back to that room, that place. Every real beginning and end has made its home in that sanctum at one point or another.

_...this won’t take long._

He sees both on the other side now and has every intention of using his sword to divide them.

That’s how it’s done, isn’t it?

By taking it back to the start and tracing it to the present.

You’ll rediscover what you’re looking for between the two: the beginning and end of your roots. 

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 4\. I really couldn't resist throwing in a cheesy title card in that last line, please forgive me  
> 5\. You all are probably sick of me saying this, but thank you for reading all the way and watching my writing evolve from toddler with a crayon to- uhhh, well, I don't really know what it is now, but something marginally better ahahaha  
> 6\. I'm certain this ending wasn't perfect, but the fact that I was able to get one out at all is mind boggling. So, if anyone gets a fraction of enjoyment out of it, that'll be enough for me!


	27. The Great Escape: Encore

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. Hello! I've come slinking back with a 2 part epilogue- entirely due to the fact that school has me very busy, and finishing up the last half would make me wait longer to post anything than I would care for  
> 2\. This epilogue is extremely self-indulgent. After the last 4(??) chapters of misery, I decided to have fun with it instead of leaving it at something short and sweet. That's probably why this is a very strange epilogue- at least compared to other ones I've read on this site lol  
> 3\. I've been rereading all the comments you guys have left and they've just about destroyed me. This has been a wonderful experience because of all the people who have kept up with this, and I'm so happy I had the random impulse to wake up at 3 in the morning and start a fic last year LOL. So thank you, and I hope you enjoy these last two installments!

Whistles flutter in the empty space as a trio of black silks emerge from the darkness.

Their meaning is lost on him, yet not the woman at his right. White lips purse before Buliara turns to him and tips her head.

“Do the honors.”

Link’s bow draws back with one steady breath, a red barrel visible just past hissing sparks, and the arrow flies from his hand in half a second. Fire erupts, the canyon shaking and crumbling as heat rushes over all those in attendance. It’s a chain of explosions that resound through the structure: each of its tunnels collapsing in upon themselves until the Yiga hideout is reduced to a smoking pile of sandstone.

Moments later, the tremor beneath their feet calms, only to resume when soldiers begin to cheer.

“That'll make the rats _sweat,”_ Buliara chuckles a little darkly over the sound of whistling and banging shields.

He looks over his shoulder to the platoons of Gerudo soldiers forgoing their usual stoicism in favor of shouting commitments to raid the Noble Canteen later in the night. He can hardly blame them, honestly.

The Vure, however, fit perfectly next to the Sheikah that stand still and quiet as statues. Those men and womens’ gazes in particular are muddled, but ultimately pleased as they watch the clouds of dust scatter away.

Buliara roars over the chaos, _“Enough! Get in file!”_

It silences her troops in an instant; the sound cuts away, echoing down the length of the valley. It’s when lines of Yiga are hauled to their feet that Burliara turns back to him with a sincere remark:

“We are in your debt for this.”

Link swats at the sand in his hair and the dust wafting past. “I wouldn’t say that. We all had an interest in this.”

“Perhaps, but I am certain we would have lost lives without Kakariko’s help. That alone makes me indebted to you all, if not our people.” There’s a stamp from her claymore. “Do not hesitate to call upon the Gerudo if need be.”

That sounds like a command more than an offer. His mouth quirks into a grin, regardless. “Can you get a discount on booze from your canteen? A few old folks in town made me promise to get my hands on a crate.”

He expects her to shoot down that request, but the woman chuckles and nods. “Very well.”

A cheeky thumbs up. She doesn’t grace that with much more than an eyeroll.

“You’ve got those guys?” he asks, gesturing to the Yiga bound in chains. She nods, so he waves and waltzes off toward the group of Sheikah waiting for him to finish. “Great, we’ll see you later, Buli.”

“Don’t call me that.”

“Bull, then?”

“Off with you!” 

That makes him shut his mouth, but not without barking a laugh first. When he turns, however, it sobers. 

Dorian hasn’t quit watching Gerudo drag off his old clan members. Listless. An ocean away. Two or three match his gaze, glaring and disgusted as they stumble out of sight.

“It’s over,” he tells the man when he simply doesn’t stop staring.

Brown eyes slide toward him. Exhaustion there, older than most would guess. His focus lands on a sword that has yet to say its goodbyes with a mutter, “Yes… I truly hope it is.”

Paper shifts. Stones with legs and one eye don’t move. Maybe they should’ve blown those away, too.

“...Let’s go home,” Link says, turning his face to the ruins. A frigid breeze still emits from those tunnels despite the rubble blocking them, biting at their skin. “It’s too damn cold here.”

  


* * *

  


Nine days later and there’s a noon sun overhead.

Link and Dorian part from the company of Sheikah men and women they’re only barely acquainted with at the mouth of the village. Even less familiar faces amble by.

Plenty of strangers are spread throughout Kakariko: be it more clan members choosing to return home after the battle, or merchants and travelers hoping to catch a glimpse of the golden princess featured in Traysi’s sharp handwriting. Luckily, according to Zelda’s letters, Cado’s hawkish glare has become just as famous, and just as effective at keeping people out as her presence is at drawing them in.

Dorian excuses himself moments later, walking off briskly in whatever direction he thinks his daughters might be in. With eighty-three days spent away from Kakariko, Link is surprised the man isn’t sprinting. He’s tempted to himself, after all, shouldering his way past merchants crossing the bridge and headed straight toward whatever direction his senses tell him she’s in.

Sparrows line the archway before Impa’s house, chattering right alongside the huddle of Sheikah below. Five guards, as per the new norm.

There’s a storm of colored feathers scattered all across the road, and Link is barely in the process of disqualifying the sparrows as the source before he sees Cado turn around cradling a much larger bird. His face is squashed into it, rocking the cuckoo like it’s something precious.

Paya’s timid pout pokes around his broad shoulder. Her mouth moves, and the man whips around only to point an accusatory finger towards Impa’s door.

“This was a _kidnapping!”_

“I’m sure... a proper explanation-” Her voice barely travels the distance, but the sight of Link up the trail makes her shout, “M-Master Link!”

Paya beams. Cado throws a dirty lour his way.

“Don’t cry,” Link coos as he approaches, ready to dodge an arrow any second. “I missed you, too, Cado.”

“You’re a week _late.”_

That accusatory finger of his finds a new target. Link swats it down, unperturbed.

“We got deadlocked by a sandstorm,” is his defense. “Did something happen?”

“N-Nothing! It’s fine!” Paya answers before Cado is able, and cuts her way between them.

Much to his shock, she grabs his hood, drags him right past their huddle, and up the stairs. It practically strangles him the whole way.

“Welcome back, we’ve all missed you so much.” The warmth in her tone and expression hardly matches the iron chokehold she has on him. “Grandmother and Her Highness will be very relieved to see you, too!”

“You don’t want to come in-”

The young woman shoves him up the last step, nearly making him stumble into the door.

“I’m alright, I’ll be happy to catch up soon,” she states with a cold grin. Impa there. It makes him shiver.

“Make sure that miscreant gets proper punishment!” Cado yaps.

“Who?” 

“Be respectful!” Paya snaps at the man before putting a hand on the door. Her smile is a taut band. _“Please_ have a lovely talk.”

With that, he shuffles inside, watching the door slam shut after him.

“You’ve returned! Come here.”

Impa’s ushering him over. He doesn’t move immediately, staring at a head of golden hair his mind keeps telling him shouldn’t be here. A mirage. Even in the cool space, her figure waxes and wanes like torrid air off a metal surface. It threatens to make him lose balance when Zelda twists to look at him.

“Link! Welcome back!” she pats the space next to her, insistent. 

A toothy grin. Something fluttering in his stomach.

“Hi,” he says, walking forward and kneeling next to her. “Why’s Cado calling you a miscreant?”

“Because _she_ is a _terror.”_

Zelda’s tone goes flat as brick. “I think you mean _Goddess Proxy.”_

“The Goddess Proxy does not steal cuckoos,” Impa informs said Goddess Proxy.

“A terrible misunderstanding,” Zelda corrects. Her tone smooth now. Utterly serene. “I saw a trail of feathers and feared the worst, you see. Knowing how precious Master Cado’s cuckoos are to him, I went off to make sure it was alright.” The princess spreads her arms wide. “And look! They’re home safe and sound!”

Impa leans forward, elbows out and hands on her knees. There’s flagrant disbelief in her scowl, and Link can’t help but share in that dubiety.

“You wouldn’t believe it,” the old woman carps, completely ignoring their princess’ excuse. “Two days ago she came to me asking for a _quiver_ of electric arrows but won’t say a _word_ as to what she wants them for! Nayru knows what she would have done with them if I’d said yes to all her pleading.”

“Impa, please, it was a simple experiment. Details weren’t necessary, and I know you are a very busy woman.”

Link’s eyebrows raise a fraction. Her twelve hour naps said otherwise, but a warning glare from both women in the room makes him think twice about opening a debate on that particular subject.

“The same excuse you had for the lizards in my loft, I see.”

Zelda heaves a long sigh. “We’ve already discussed this, haven’t we?”

“Yes, just as we’ve discussed those _noxious_ elixirs.” The priestess leans back, gesturing to Link. “Never did I think the day would come that you are less of a troublemaker than the Crown Princess of Hyrule!”

Another sigh.

Impa slaps her leg at that, angry. “Trying to jump off a cliff with a cuckoo! Since when did you get a taste for stupid stunts like this?”

Link gives her a waspish look. Zelda wilts beneath it.

She shakes her head, already tired of their scrutiny. Though, the glint in her eye is impossible to miss when she cracks:

“What can I say? You get _bolder_ with age.”

  


* * *

  


Zelda’s arms are crossed as she stands looking over the town. 

Closing the doors behind him, Link ducks beneath swaying windchimes and steps out into the heat. There’s a blinding sheen- her hair like fire in the harsh sunlight. It makes him squint.

Was it always so bright? It seems like something that the haze of his memories had failed to convey. Some of it’s over her shoulder, and his first instinct is to reach out and push it back. The princess looks his way before impulse can embarrass him in front of half the town.

“Not a single _‘Your Highness’,”_ she remarks with as much mirth as exasperation. “As much as I dislike the title, I’m beginning to wonder if she’s been replaced by a Bokoblin with a stolen hat.”

“What can I say?” Link quips. “You get bolder with age.”

A bad joke. She has to stifle a laugh anyway, and shakes her head with a one-word reply, _“You.”_

Fond. His heart flips, and by the time he swallows it down, the cheer’s left her. Shoulders droop, arms going lax.

“That’s a debatable statement, actually,” Zelda says, wry.

“Something you’re afraid of?” 

It’s meant to be humorous, but her gaze goes flat again.

Hands move behind her back. Wrists lock together.

“Change,” she answers, inspecting passing heads. He’s waiting for her to elaborate. She does so by changing the subject. “I’m happy to see you back- without a scratch on you, too! I’m assuming it went well?” 

“...No one got hurt too badly,” he manages, reluctant to move on. “The roads should be a lot safer now.”

“Good,” she affirms. “That’s the first step completed. I’ll speak with Lady Liana about the trials before she leaves- I’m sure the Sheikah would like to be included in the process given their history. Especially Impa- judging is the true role of a High Priestess, after all, and we ought to bear down on Paya’s training, too. Perhaps she should be present…?”

All business, that tone of hers. She’s standing ramrod straight and looking down her nose. Like Rhoam, he thinks. There’s something more commanding about her presence- authoritative and hardened with regality in the way she moves. Is it Hylia’s influence? Age? The natural effects of sharing a room with a monster? He can only guess.

Hard to imagine she was stealing hens twenty minutes ago.

Zelda goes quiet. Troubled: something simmering and boiling under the surface. He doesn’t care for it, and points to her head.

“You have a feather in your hair.”

It comes to a halt.

“Wh- really? Where is it?”

“I’m joking,” he waves it off the moment her hands raise.

They lower with a withering look. “You-”

“I’m lying, there’s two.”

 _“Link!”_ A foot stamps, and she tilts his way. “Just get them out, will you?”

He obliges. Zelda spies him pulling out three and scowls so hard she has enough wrinkles to rival Impa. They’re tossed to the wind as she goes to complain, but she doesn’t get one vowel out before his growing smile shuts her up. A laugh bubbling out of him.

She tries to hide her own grin with a hand near her mouth. It’s about as effective as Cottla trying to hide behind an offering statue: her lopsided bun poking over the top.

There’s a bit of relief in that.

A hush falls, and his mind starts to wander- including his eyes. Lashes on her cheeks. Flushed. Somehow, she’s making him dizzier than the desert.

“By the way,” Link blurts, “since the roads are safer, I was thinking we could-”

“Master Link!” Their attention jumps to Dorian at the base of the stairs, waving alongside Paya. He jabs a thumb toward the papers in her grasp. “Lady Liana’s looking for you, and the Zora sent their letters for Her Highness.”

“Finally!” Zelda gives him an apologetic look. “We’ll have to catch up another time, I suppose.”

Link’s eyes twitch.

He stands with Dorian seconds later, watching her and Paya vanish back into that house.

“...Are you alright?” the man questions, eyeing the toad-like glower on Link’s face.

His answer is to huff, scratch at his head with more force than necessary, and gripe:

“Let’s go. It’s too damn _hot_ out here.”

  


* * *

  


Link could hardly see straight. 

A vat of water over his head washed away all the soot and blood and dirt and tears and anything else he couldn’t think to name. 

His tunic a pile of tatters and stains. Maybe it’d have to be remade again.

The sun was long gone by the time he forced himself up those steps and past the moths fluttering by the lanterns. Impa was there with other Sheikah he couldn’t recognize through the dark and delirium. Hushed tones and tired faces.

But- there was an excitement in Impa’s eyes he hadn’t seen since the moment he first walked through her doors three years ago. Like red sparks.

 _‘Above,’_ she whispered.

He didn’t need to be told twice.

Impa and her attendants watched him go. The house shook with a faint thrum: waterfalls roaring just outside wood and plaster- and candlelight bleeding down the stairs from the loft.

Zelda was there in a new white dress, curled like a cat in that mound of red squares and flickering shadows. Green eyes cracked open before she extended a hand, palm upturned. He lifted his own. Barely. Hesitantly. Her fingers traveled past to take his wrist. The Sword fell, slipping and thudding from his grasp as he came to realize Zelda had a stronger pull than the Earth itself.

 _‘Why is your hair wet…?’_ was the sleepy mumble that greeted him.

_‘Robbie said I smelled like a Moblin’s ass.’_

She giggled, soft, and the sound may as well have been a knife through his chest.

His answer seemed to satisfy her, because no more questions came. Thus, his mind and Impa’s house remained impossibly quiet. His hand drifted over her head. The back of his fingers down her cheek. 

A time capsule.

She exhaled, heavy, before shifting closer. Lashes brushing his neck. Misty.

 _‘...I missed you,’_ she murmured, and he couldn’t even speak.

His heart was so full it ached.

Three months since then and it was the last time they had a moment to themselves.

Link had fully expected Zelda to ask for a break, yet it became apparent she had no intention of ruining her one hundred year streak of labor. To be fair, it wasn’t like he’d stopped, either- running off with healing wounds and four days of rest to ambush Yiga the moment they’d been seen prowling Necludan mountains. He’d chased them all the way back to that hideout, tearing it out by the roots and salting what was left.

It was too ingrained in them. The work.

Much to his surprise, Impa hadn’t shared his worries during those early days.

 _‘A second wind,’_ she’d called Zelda’s newfound obsession with letters and reconstruction. _‘She’ll slow down eventually. Give it time.’_

More time. More and more and more and more. Every passing second ticks by in his head as loudly as a clock in an empty room, and he can hardly believe he’s the only one who can’t stand the noise.

Link watches fireflies crawl across the Goddess statue hours after they’d parted ways, trying not to think about the house where the Goddess is really hiding.

“G-Good evening.”

Paya stands at the end of the bridge, awash in the orange glow of a snapping fire. Cottla’s there in the crook of her arms- a cheek squished against the young woman’s shoulder. Out like a light.

“It’s late,” he points out with a tremor of amusement. 

Her smile is weary, yet kind. “She had an argument with Dorian and refused to go home… I’m dropping her off.”

“I heard she caused trouble while we were gone.”

A nod. Her eyes fall. “She’s been tearing up plants this last week. She wouldn’t eat her meals, either.”

Dirt in her hair and clothes. It looks like she’d made a good day of it.

“I’m sure she’ll calm down tomorrow…” Paya muses, watching the lily pads drift. “Sometimes they act out when they’re lonely, you know..?”

“...Right,” Link says, distracted.

Cottla babbles something incoherent. It snaps that girl’s chaperone out of her own thoughts, and she struggles to wave a hand while supporting her.

“A-Anyway, I’ll see you.”

“Oh... bye.”

He almost forgot to say the word.

The two of them disappear up the paths, Cottla’s drooling face cut from view by the branches of a low tree. It’s the same moment he lurches forward, crosses the bridge, and barges into Impa’s house.

  


* * *

  


“What?”

Luckily, she’s still wide awake.

There’s ink on her fingers and papers all over the desk in front of her. A small mountain of them lay crumbled into wads- discarded in frustration. Letters to the Zora, perhaps. Words she just can’t find.

“There’s someone I want to show you,” he repeats. “A couple, actually.”

“W-Who, exactly?”

Her eyes are as wide as an owl’s as he takes the Slate off his belt and opens the pictures there. He kneels next to her, passing it over. She grimaces against the vivid red that lights up her face.

“Is that _Dinraal?”_

“Oh, yeah. I got all of them, but that’s not-”

“-and your _blurry_ face in the corner?” she snickers, pointing to a panicked gasp and the fireball inches from his head. Link quickly swipes it away. _“No!_ Oh, a Bluepee.”

Zelda inspects it for a moment longer before moving on to the next pictures. A wedding in Tarry Town, colorful fish beneath the docks in Lurelin, and falling stars from atop the Dueling Peaks.

“These are lovely... You have quite an eye for this,” she mumbles, wistful.

Soon enough, she finds the picture he’s waiting for.

That smile evaporates when sand reflects in her eyes. Her face lax. Hollow. That reaction isn’t what he was expecting- and it suddenly makes him feel like he’d made a mistake. She blinks, trying to come out of her stupor.

“That crown… _Urbosa?_ She’s so young, there’s no way-” Her head whirls toward him. “Who is this?”

“Riju. She’s the current chief… She’s, um, she’s a lot taller than that now.”

It’s a picture that’s two and a half years old: the girl standing atop the lookout post with a golden helmet in her arms and a curious frown. Naboris and the glaring streak of lightning in a sandstorm at her back.

“In some ways they’re really similar, but she’s the type who’s less suspicious of people… Buliara really makes up for it, though.”

Zelda doesn’t say anything. Her limbs are rigid- her expression muddled and hinting at an emotion he hasn’t seen until now. Lips roll together. The words that come are barely audible even in their close proximity.

“...I want to meet her.”

Ticking.

The clock’s ticking to nowhere. 

She’s not moving or breathing. What’s she waiting on? Not him, definitely, not anymore. Can’t be. He’s here. She’s here. But it’s wrong somehow. His head might be right, she’s not supposed to be here. She should be somewhere else. And him, he’ll just be wherever she is.

That sounds more correct.

“Ok,” Link says, blunt. “Right now?”

Bewilderment floods over her. “R-Right now?”

He nods sharp.

“Impa-”

“Is snoring downstairs. I bet she’ll still be sleeping by the time we get back.”

“The Slate can’t warp two people.”

“It’ll only take two weeks if we hurry.” 

Zelda’s mouth hangs.

“It’s… _midnight,”_ is, for some reason, her objection of choice regarding his insane suggestion.

“That’s never stopped you before.”

She laughs, incredulous, “This is absurd.”

“That’s the point,” he laughs, just as incredulous.

The world isn’t spinning when Zelda sits there and drowns in conflict.

The air in that room is stale. Old wood, old fabric, and old parchment. Three months she’s spent cooped up in this house. He wants to ask if she plans to spend another damn century here. Her fingers curl over the paper on her desk and the others around that Slate, and he knows she doesn’t want to, but it’s also all she knows after so many years being one of the few pillars that kept Hyrule from falling into ruin.

He thinks he understands better than most: that sense of responsibility. 

It’s just too ingrained in them. _The work._

But, if anything he knows about her is still true, he’s certain she feels the urge- that need to stay moving just like he does. They simply aren’t made for staying in one place for too long. Not in some sanctum or loft or town, no matter how familiar, comfortable, or called for. 

Some might say he’s a bad influence. While his greed is undeniable, Link would argue the opposite.

“Just for a bit.” he bargains, his heart at her feet and his gut twisting into itself with fear. “Just us?”

He holds a hand out, and she looks at him like he has a stronger pull than the Earth itself.

“Ok,” she whispers, something breathing to life in her, “...Just for a bit.” 

Zelda’s hand lifts, and the world starts spinning again.

  


* * *

  


Updrafts of warm air threw back their hoods when flowers tore past, the two of them sprinting down a slope drenched in moonlight as if someone might have actually been running after them. 

It’d been a grand, wholly unnecessary escape.

They’re a pair of fugitives. At least, that’s what it still feels like after abandoning their responsibilities in favor of chasing after whims and what few vestiges remained of the people they’d lost.

 _‘We’re going to Gerudo Desert,’_ Zelda had told Cado when they came down the stairs. _‘We’ll be back in a bit.’_

Those guards chortled with disbelief. Cado mimicked them, trying and failing to pretend he didn’t hope it was true. Neither Link nor Zelda bothered to tell them it wasn’t a joke, and he couldn’t help but wonder when exactly they cued into that. It could’ve been five minutes. It could’ve been five days.

Regardless, over a week later, he got his answer.

_‘I’ll tell you, I knew something like this was coming, I just didn’t expect to hear it from a man selling toads.’_

According to Impa’s lofty letter, it was the next afternoon: when one of their regular merchants showed up asking if the pair of bright blue Hylians he saw stumbling into Riverside Stable at dawn were who he thought they were.

_‘You have my blessing to take as much time as you like, but at the very least, don’t get caught doing anything indecent-’_

Link almost chokes.

The note is immediately crumpled and thrown beneath a simmering cooking pot. He dusts his hands off, certain to watch it collapse into an illegible blackened mass before redirecting his attention to the tapping foot behind him.

A man with a bowl cut is glaring down at a princess who’s glaring right back up.

“How about _this?”_

Her eyes flick down to a bottle glinting in the sunlight: the liquid swirling inside as orange as the canyon walls.

Zelda evaluates it, arms crossed. “Dull. It’s worth a better elixir than that.”

“It’s a fair trade! What’s a girl like you going to do with a Bladed Beetle anyhow?”

“Make a better elixir for starters, I’d say.”

Beedle’s face scrunches, and his head swivels to Link with a snide remark, “She’s mean. Where did you find her?”

“In a cave.”

“One of those Bokoblin caves?”

“Oh, yeah. They begged me to take her.”

“I can believe that.”

“I don’t think I’m the rude one here!” Zelda yells. Her hand chops away whatever petty retort Beedle was about to snip. “Do you have cool elixirs?”

He squints, intrigued. Two arms gesture to the house-sized pack strapped to his shoulders. “I’ve got any ingredients you’d need.”

“Give me four winterwings and three darners. You’ll have your beetle then.”

“Doable if you have two ironshrooms.”

“Of course,” Zelda lifts the Slate, tapping away. She pauses. _“...Actually,_ I imagine we’ll be seeing each other quite often from now on, so I’ll throw in a truffle for good faith. How’s that?”

“Wow!” Beedle’s hands clasp by his head, crowing brighter than sunshine. “I like her, you should keep her!”

Link shifts, his own grin sheepish, but the one that crawls onto Zelda’s face looks more devious than anything else.

“You have an impressive supply,” she comments as they trade items. “More than any merchant I’ve seen thus far. Tell me, do you work with company?”

“I’m a one man business,” is his prideful quip.

“Have you thought about expanding?”

“Like getting a bigger pack? Yeah, definitely.”

Her grin spreads farther. “What if I told you I could get you a whole _cart?_ Travel ready and all?”

 _“Wow!_ That’d be a dream!”

“Perfect.” Zelda’s eyes follow the sand rolling past their feet and to the hole of light leading into the desert. “...I’ll be sure to go into details the next time we meet.”

“Sure thing! It was nice to meet you, Miss…?”

“Zelda,” she says, extending a hand. “Like the princess.”

Beedle laughs and shakes her hand. “Neat!”

The merchant’s humming floats through the canyons, pots and pans rattling away as he skips off into that storm of dust and rust-colored dirt. Zelda watches him go, a scheming finger at her chin.

“There’s more merchants near the oasis if you’re still plotting to take over the economy,” Link offers.

She blinks and giggles a little awkwardly. “...Does it seem that way? I’m sorry- I find a seed and can’t help but think of a forest, you know?”

He makes a pensive noise. “You’ll be a good queen.”

“Someday, if they’ll have me.” Zelda flashes a smile as she rocks on her toes, doubtful but appreciative. “The Zora might not be so inclined.”

“If they warmed up to _me,_ anything’s possible.” 

Reflex drags his hand up and onto her head, patting it.

“Yes… Thank you.” Her voice is a ways off when his arm returns to his side.

Zelda studies it before reflex gets the better of her, too, a hand following after and her fingers threading into his. She waits like he might pull away, eyes trained nervously on their feet. 

His head’s fuzzy. Wool and static.

Without a word, she leads them toward the desert. Link follows after, thinks about all kinds of trees, and starts to suspect he knows exactly what she meant.

  


* * *

  


The clamor of a marketplace carries into the sands despite those high walls. 

“There is _no_ way that still works.”

“It does.”

“You’re pulling my leg.”

Link glances to blue and green silks.

“Worked last time I was here.” 

Zelda squints, skeptical. To prove his point, he bats his eyes and poses like Paya, hands folded. A little sway.

 _“Ahh,_ I can see it now.”

“It’s about the performance,” he brags as she returns to snooping around the Slate. “There’s-”

Blue flashes, and Zelda’s standing in front of him like a mirror image. White and green now- the extra pair he’d bought ages ago.

“Oh! It fits. Wonderful.”

It fit a little tight, actually. Hardly made for curves.

“You don’t have to wear that,” he says rapidly.

She pouts, her eyebrows tilting up like a dog denied its treat. “But I want to! I was forbidden to before and my travel clothes are stuffy during the day.” Her arms cover her bare stomach. “...Though I- I admit I’m not used to showing so much skin.”

Oh, he _hates_ this.

Link steps back to check the area around the shrine they’re hidden behind. Several men by the front gate. More rounding the West corner. A rock and a hard place.

 _“Dammit,”_ he grumbles. 

He briefly considers drawing a weapon.

“Is something- _oh.”_ Zelda follows his glare only to give an abashed cough. “Come now, I’m sure you’re far more popular than I could ever be.”

“Absolutely,” he agrees, and she rolls her eyes. “But you’re the only woman in Hyrule who could give me a run for my money.”

There’s a pause as she clears her throat. Her voice strained.

“I’d be flattered if I wasn’t marveling at the size of your ego.”

His tone is a little smug when he leans in, lifting the veil from her face, “You sure? Looks like it still worked.”

“Th- It’s _sunburn!”_ she barks as she backpedals away.

“After wearing a hood all day?”

Her rebuttal is to narrow her eyes menacingly, ignore his cackling as he takes her wrist, and let him drag her toward the gates. However, both her embarrassment and the shouts of men behind them are forgotten as soon as she lays eyes on yet another of the few time capsules littered throughout Hyrule. 

She trots forward with a gasp, her voice bouncing off the walls of that small tunnel, “I can’t believe it!” 

Zelda turns on her heel, spinning as she scans the shops and their rooftops. Desert larks flock through the palm trees. Incense from the spas, and hydromelons tucked quaintly in the shade- an old woman fanning herself under the awnings.

“Not a pebble out of place,” she jokes, kicking one with her toes.

Link hangs back a moment to observe with a sense of satisfaction. Even after one hundred years, some of her youth has stayed with her in the way she hops over babbling water and heads straight for the most enticing shops.

Hard to imagine she spent a century in a castle filled with skeletons.

A tinge of anxiety pinches in his chest, and he runs to catch up with her.

It’s when Dalia waves them goodbye that Zelda plucks a wildberry into her mouth and sets her sights on the palace entryway.

“I never put any thought into how I’d get a meeting with her,” she admits, thumbing idly through the berries in her palm. “...Do you think we’ll have to wait a few days?”

“Huh? Nah, I go in whenever I want.”

“You’re not serious.”

“Buli yells at me, but she lets me get away with almost anything. Besides- you do remember who you are, right?” he asks as the last one slips beneath her veil.

A walking myth.

Zelda doesn’t outright respond to that. She evaluates the violet berry-stains on her fingertips instead. Shoulders sag, and the age in her seeps through the cracks.

Maybe she forgets sometimes, too.

“That's convenient,” she says as her hand curls into a ball. Her gaze lifts, eager, and those sparkling eyes are almost enough to convince him he’s seeing things. “Shall we, then?”

Link nods and leads the way without a word.

  


* * *

  


The shadows in the palace are thick with the first signs of sunset when they climb those stairs. 

Light spills into the chambers from the Southern horizon, and Riju is there as usual: tucked within the shadow of her throne and Buliara standing tall and gold and imposing.

Riju’s blue lips are an unamused line, her elbow on the arm rest and knuckles against her cheek as she stares at a scroll that snakes all the way to the floor. Their arrival must have been a relief for her, if the way she perks up and tosses that paper away is anything to go by.

Her foot scoots that scroll even farther out of sight. Buliara looks nothing if not exasperated by the gesture, yet Riju rather pointedly ignores her attendant’s huffing.

“Well, hello there.” she croons before standing. 

(The braid that once reached her ankles now sways just past her lower back. He swore, every visit he’d ever paid, she’d gained four inches. Half a year was all it took for her to start looking down her nose at him- something which was quite jarring for a Hylian who’d gained only two inches to his own height in the last three.

Four if he was having a bad hair day.)

Link offers a playful salute to Buliara, but she doesn’t take notice- instead eyeing the woman on his heels with that typical circumspection of hers.

“Indulging a request of mine,” Zelda answers as she comes to a halt at his side. “I do hope we’re not intruding.”

She pulls the silk from her head, and Riju’s expression goes bright and curious.

“...Far from it. I’ve learned to appreciate surprises as of late,” the chieftess says after a moment of inspection. A hand goes to her hip with a smirk. “And Hyrule’s fabled princess showing up in my palace may be the best one I’ve had all week.”

“It’s a pleasure.”

“Likewise...” Riju looks her up and down once more. “I would say you’re much... younger than I anticipated, but I doubt I’m one to talk. Not to mention that one next to you.”

“Yes, it will be rather challenging to convince Hyrule of my identity given my looks.”

She snorts. “I can imagine. I suppose you’re not here to convince me of that, though, are you?”

Zelda shifts abashedly. “That.... would be correct. I’m not here on any official business. This place was a second home to me, once. I only wanted to see what’s become of it.”

“And? What do you think?”

“I think it’s been in good hands.”

The way Riju’s shoulders relax makes him suspect it’s more of a comfort than her proud exterior would let on.

“I’m pleased to hear it...” she says as she walks closer. “What do you say we get you properly reacquainted?”

The girl jerks her chin toward her guard lurking from afar. “Go on, introduce yourself.”

A head bows. That unnerving headband glints. “Buliara, Your Highness.”

Zelda doesn’t say anything for long enough both his and Riju’s heads swivel toward her. Link reels away when her nose scrunches, and her eyes squint so intently at the woman he thinks she must have just smelled something foul. The princess checks the floor, blinks, and then looks back to Buliara.

Her nose scrunches again.

“...Is something the matter, Your Highness?” Buliara eventually prods, blatantly caught somewhere between offense and concern.

“That woman,” Zelda whispers to Link, “is _Biljana.”_

“Weird, isn’t it?” is his clarification.

“What is _weird_ now?” the woman in question barks.

“Your face.”

_“Excuse me?!”_

The princess gives him a not-so-subtle elbow to the ribs. “What he means is that you are the spitting image of Urbosa’s attendant! Are you perhaps related to a woman by the name of Biljana?”

Her annoyance melts away, replaced with intrigue. “Why, yes... That would be my great grandmother. Do we truly share such likeness?”

“Yes, your eyes are quite striking.”

Buliara, naturally, assumes they’re exaggerating. A shake of her head. “Is that all?”

“You won’t believe it,” Link drawls, “she had red hair, too.”

“Little _troll.”_

“Look,” he nudges Zelda.

“Now _that_ is uncanny,” she marvels at a sneer that is, somehow, both derisive and fond at the same time.

“Sure is.”

“Shut up!” Buliara stamps her claymore, “My Lady, can’t we just _ban_ him already?”

The girl’s eyebrows sinch together, a finger poised at her chin. “It’s just occurred to me, we were technically supposed to do that after Naboris, weren’t we? Well, better late than never.”

“No, don’t!” he pleads with an exaggerated gasp. “Your spa is so good-”

The amusement evaporates when Buliara’s canines flash. “What was that? We asked you for discretion and you’ve been using the _spa?!”_

A pause. More than one dubious stare on him. His pleading exterior melts as he winces and clicks his tongue. “...You know, in hindsight, I shouldn’t have let that slip.”

Zelda snorts a little too loudly for his liking, and Buliara spews like magma.

“And here I kept wondering why a voe always smells like _blossoms-”_

Any floundering defense he tries to raise gets buried beneath the laugh Riju lets out. It rings off the walls- that cadence as loud and rich as always, but the sound wanes into nothing as her chin lowers. Buliara’s scoldings die as well, her gaze fixed somewhere past his shoulder.

Link twists to see Zelda there with wide and watery and trembling eyes locked right onto the girl whose mouth is still hanging open in dumb shock.

“Is something the matter…?” Riju’s voice. Teetering unsurety.

The weight of three pairs of eyes on her snaps a mite of her self-awareness back into place. The princess waves her hand almost like she’s fanning her face. It looks hot, the tendons in her neck straining.

“No, no, I’m-” her response is cut off by a sudden, shaky breath as she wipes at one of her eyes. A pitching laugh. “Goodness, I don’t-”

Her palm slaps over her mouth, muffling something. It moves to cover her eyes along with the veil fisted in her other hand. Teeth dig into her bottom lip. It might bleed.

“Zelda-”

There’s a sob like a rusty hinge before she whirls around and stumbles over her feet as she sprints out the door- that lurid twilight swallowing her whole.

The room’s left in a fracture as they stand there pondering the credibility of their eyes and ears in solidarity.

 _Oh,_ he thinks when the vertigo ebbs away, _there it went._

The second wind, that is.

  
  



End file.
